Learning To Breathe Again
by anxioussquirrel
Summary: Part 2 of the Breathe trilogy - a sequel to With You, I Can Breathe. The story chronicles Blaine's healing process after he leaves the Hummel-Hudson family and returns home to face challenges of his family life, school, recovery and his rapist's trial.
1. Countdown

**A/N: **_This story is a sequel to my earlier fic, _With You, I Can Breathe_, and it won't make much sense if you haven't read that. It deals with aftermath of sexual assault and while there will be no explicit descriptions of that act, it will be mentioned repeatedly. The story portrays Blaine's healing process after he leaves the warmth of the Hummel-Hudson family and returns home to his parents, to face challenges of his family life, school, recovery and his rapist's trial._

_There will probably be 12 chapters (though it's an estimation at this point and it may change slightly). New chapters will be uploaded often, 1-2 days apart._

_I hope you like it. Reviews are appreciated, as always :)_

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><p>CHAPTER 1<p>

Blaine Anderson was not a morning person. If he had a choice, he would never get up before nine. Yet there he was, on a Saturday morning, dawn barely beginning to seep through the window, wide awake and deep in thought.

A week ago at dawn he was leaving a hospital after a brutal assault (_rape, Blaine, stop running away from the word, it was rape_), broken, shocked and ashamed. His body was in pain, but it was nothing compared to what he was going through in his mind. He thought it was the end of everything. He was certain there was no life for him after that. It was as if this one act cut through every plan and prospect for the future he ever had and left him with only dark, cold emptiness to look forward to.

So much had changed in the seven days since then, even as so much remained the same.

He was still ashamed, but now he slowly started to believe the rape was not his fault and he didn't bring it on himself.

He was broken and in pain, but he had _hope_.

He didn't know how to put together the shattered pieces of himself, but he was shown that it didn't mean he couldn't still love and be loved.

He had no idea what future would bring for him, but he knew he _had_ a future, he could shape it and it could still be bright and good.

He had virtually no hope for support and acceptance from his family, but he found it here instead.

He stirred and immediately an arm embracing him tightened, a hand stroked his chest in a soothing gesture. He looked at the other occupant of the bed with open tenderness. Even asleep, Kurt kept guarding Blaine's dreams, ready to wake up at the first sign of trouble. Kurt. His best friend. His safe person. And now, his boyfriend. It was still so fresh, so new, only two days had passed since the conversation that changed things between them so unexpectedly. Yet at the same time it felt as if they'd been this close forever. In a way, they were. Nothing really changed between them after they confessed their love for each other. Maybe they felt a little bit less reserved about being close, maybe they held hands and looked at each other with open affection now. But since they agreed to leave the sexual aspect out of their relationship for the time being, mostly they just remained best friends. Best friends who were in love with each other.

And he owed Kurt so much. Kurt and this whole wonderful family who took him in and made him feel safe and accepted. Burt, who found him that night, who really _saw_ him, noticed what he tried to hide, and took charge, took care of him, never left him. He could have just given him a ride home and forgotten it, but he didn't. Then Carole – the mother he couldn't find in his own. Nurturing and warm, but without babying him, just like he needed. And Finn, who wasn't sure how to act around him yet, still awkward, but open and accepting. This family, this home – he couldn't find a better place to heal after his ordeal if he tried. It was the only spot of light in the darkness that fell after he was lured to an empty dorm room, handcuffed to the bed and violated.

But soon – and Blaine shuddered at the thought – he would have to step out of the light. He had one day left here before his parents came back from Europe and took him home. And there would be no tender care there, no ears ready to listen without judging and supportive shoulders to cry on, no chats and laughter over family dinners, and evenings spent playing board games or watching movies together. There would be a big, empty house, disapproving glances and cold words, and solitary nights with only his dreams to keep him company.

And that was just home. Come Monday, there would be school, and even though it meant temporary escape from the stifling walls of his family house, it came with its own challenges – with crowds of people, sudden, loud noises, with pretending to be _just fine_. Then he needed to start therapy and learn to deal with the memories and feelings that he didn't even want to think about, let alone describe to anyone. And of course, there was also the bleakest prospect of all – the trial.

Detective Pavlova called him last evening to inform him that Eric, his assailant, was arrested. She said she would call Blaine again as soon as there was a trial date set. Only then did he actually realize that reporting the rape and giving his statement was just a beginning, that there would be a trial – the scary chaos he's only ever seen in movies: judges, prosecutors and defenders, courtrooms with a bunch of anonymous people who were given the power to declare guilty or innocent – and that he'd have to testify. Maybe it was silly, but he hadn't thought so far ahead before and the realization scared him senseless. He ended up spending half an hour after this phone call huddled in the corner of the bed, shaking violently and unable to speak, while Kurt paced anxiously begging him to say something. Even now the thought of what would have to happen – and soon – paralyzed him.

As more and more birds chirped outside and the sun came higher, letting bright warm light into the room, Blaine's thoughts became darker and filled with more dread. It was as if he'd spent this last week in an oasis, surrounded by everything he needed, and now he had to go, leave it all behind, cross through a rocky, desolate, wind-swept desert all by himself, with no destination in sight. He felt lonely, scared and helpless already.

Movement by his side snapped him out of his miserable thoughts. Kurt gathered the covers tighter around himself and mumbled something in his sleep, slight smile playing on his relaxed face. Blaine breathed deeper. He still had time. Time to absorb as much of all the warmth and care surrounding him now as he could. He would cherish every minute of it, save it and let it carry him through the tough times that were bound to come.

He turned to cuddle closer into Kurt's embrace and closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>Saturday flew by too fast, and while it was filled to the brim with laughter and talking, delicious food and good company, for Blaine there was an undertone of sadness there. Puck and Santana came by after lunch and if they were surprised that he was there and treated like a part of the family, they didn't let it show. Kurt kept giving them weird glances for some reason and Finn was suddenly awkward again, but Blaine had a lot of fun. It turned out Noah was a pretty funny guy and Santana hid a really interesting person under that bitch façade of hers.<p>

When they left, he and Kurt helped Carole with dinner, while Finn volunteered to clean up afterwards. They all ate together, trying not to choke with laughter as Kurt and Finn shared some of the funnier stories from New Directions, making Blaine wonder how the group with this amount of crazy was able to perform together at all, let alone be as good as he saw during Sectionals.

In the evening everyone sat in the living room to watch a football game, but Kurt soon excused himself and went to his room to "work on a project". When Blaine ventured upstairs after the game ended, his friend's clear voice reached him halfway up the stairs.

_And when..._

_When the night falls on you, baby_

_You're feeling all alone_

_You won't be on your own_

_I'll stand by you_

_I'll stand by you_

_Won't let nobody hurt you_

_I'll stand by you_

_Take me even to your darkest hour_

_And I'll never desert you_

_I'll stand by you_

He stood and listened, finding quiet solace in the words, until the music ended. Opening the door, he found Kurt standing with a small microphone in his hand.

"Hi. What are you doing?"

"Oh, hi. I've just finished. I'll show you later." He went to his computer and played with some software before grabbing Blaine's hand and leading him to the door. "Come on, let's go and make some hot chocolate. This will take a while."

Sitting with Kurt in the kitchen suffused with a soft yellow light while darkness and rain reigned outside, hot chocolate with chili steaming in mugs, warming their hands and hearts – this had to be what heaven felt like. Peaceful, silent contentment. Oh, how he wished they could stay like this forever. But it was futile, of course. All too soon the chocolate was drank, the cups washed and they returned upstairs to prepare for the night, his last one under this welcoming roof.

But first, there was one more surprise waiting for him. Kurt slipped a silver disc from his laptop, put it into a CD case and handed it to him with a shy smile.

"Here. It's for you. You can copy it into your iPod when you get home."

"What is it?"

"I… I recorded some songs for you. As in, sang and recorded. The ones I've been singing to you all this week. This way you can still listen to my voice when you fall asleep at home."

Smile spread on Blaine's face. "Oh wow! Thank you! It's brilliant!"

Kurt blushed to the tips of his ears. "It's no big deal. So, who showers first?"

* * *

><p>When Blaine was a little boy, he used to try to stay awake all through the night whenever he knew the next day was going to bring something he was worried about, like a dentist appointment or another of his parents' business trips. He remembered those nights now, as he lay by Kurt's side in a dark, silent house, long after the other boy fell asleep, and fought the drowsiness, trying to postpone the inevitable. And just like he always did back then, he failed again, slipping into unconsciousness, unnoticed, to wake up hours later to the knock on the bedroom door and Carole's voice urging them to get up and come down for breakfast.<p>

Everything moved fast, way too fast after that. Suddenly breakfast was over, his things were packed and the hands of his watch raced towards noon, when his parents were supposed to be there to get him – a fact they announced in a call to Mr. Hummel, since his own phone lay at the bottom of his bag now, smashed in his angry fit several days before.

And then there was a doorbell chiming, and there they were.

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><p><strong>In the next chapter: Meet the parents.<strong>


	2. Meet the parents

CHAPTER 2

Kurt was standing in the middle of his bedroom, Blaine clinging to him tightly, curly head in the warm crook between his shoulder and neck. Their parents had been talking in the living room for a while now. It was time to say goodbye.

Sounds of footsteps and voices came from downstairs just minutes later.

"I'll miss you," whispered Kurt, and it didn't matter they would see each other every day at school. It was different. They both knew it.

Blaine pressed impossibly closer in his embrace. "Thank you." It was more of a breath than a whisper.

A male voice called Blaine's name then and as he raised his head, Kurt was shocked by the flood of emotions on his face. Fear. Resignation. Sadness. Determination. Despair. And then Blaine blinked, and just like that, he had his show face on. Confident. Smiling. _Fine_.

He took a step back from Kurt's arms, opened the door and went.

* * *

><p>They discussed it – how they should talk with the Andersons once they arrive, what to tell them and what to leave for the boy to reveal if he wants to. They agreed on delivering the essential facts of the assault, Blaine's injuries and the case, and on not showing their own emotions and opinions concerning these people's parenting methods. No matter how strongly they felt about it, it wasn't really their place to lecture them. And they didn't want them to forbid Blaine any further contacts.<p>

Now, standing behind Burt's armchair after sending all three of the boys upstairs, Carole could almost physically feel the tension radiating from him as he tried with all his might not to tell anything impulsive. He chose his words carefully and spoke slowly, describing how he happened to answer Blaine's call and what he saw when he picked him up, what the doctor said about his injuries and the recommended course of further actions, and finally, how they went with Blaine to report the rape and what the detective said. Mr. Anderson, an imposing man with curly grey hair and hard, unsmiling face, who kept his expression utterly disinterested up till now, snarled after hearing that.

"And who allowed him to make such decisions without us? It was the most stupid thing to do, if you ask me. I'll need to talk to him about that."

"Mr. Anderson, with all due respect, it was Blaine's decision to make, no one else's. It was him who was hurt here." Carole said quickly, seeing how Burt was about to go ballistic.

The man mumbled something that sounded like _Or so he says_, before standing up from the sofa.

"Anything else?"

Burt managed to regain his composure with visible effort.

"No, I think that's all you need to know. Just…" he hesitated, his voice getting softer, "be gentle with him, okay? He really is traumatized."

Mr. Anderson looked at him as if he wanted to sneer _Who are you to tell me how to raise my child?_, but he didn't say anything, just went out to the hall and called "Blaine, we're going!". His wife, a beautiful Asian woman who sat silent and unimpressed throughout the conversation, went out behind him and for a second Carole thought she saw something flash through her face – worry? Sadness? And was there a brief glimmer of tears in her eyes? But then she blinked and just looked calm and collected again, a distant beauty with a polite smile.

Blaine came downstairs then, alone. He thanked them for their help and care with a smile so forcefully cheerful it hurt and Burt had just enough time to tell him "You're always welcome here, kid," before his parents were hurrying him out without as much as a hug or a kiss, or even a comment about the bruise on his cheek or the arm in a sling, and then the door was closed and the sound of an engine was vanishing in the distance. Carole embraced her husband and lay her head on his shoulder.

"Do you think he'll be alright?"

"I don't know. I really don't."

* * *

><p>They drove in silence, interrupted only by his mom's attempts at keeping light conversation about their trip, which ended up as monologues that nobody really listened to. The elephant in the car was sucking all the air and leaving awkwardness and discomfort. Blaine knew his parents didn't want to talk, or even think about what happened to him. He also knew that they would, eventually. Or at least his father would – he'd always believed in dealing with problems head on. Blaine dreaded this conversation more than he wanted to admit, even to himself.<p>

Sure enough, after a simple, but tastefully prepared lunch – his father's secretary had done grocery shopping for them, as she always did before they came back from a trip – Carl Anderson sat back in his chair and cleared his throat.

"Now, Blaine. What is this whole farce about?"

"I believe Mr. Hummel told you, dad. I don't know what more you want me to add."

"How about the truth."

"The truth? Do you think I lied?" He had to be joking, right?

"Lied? No, probably not. But I believe you dramatized the incident, like you often do. You are a born performer, after all." Only in his father's mouth could it sound like an offence.

"I was r-raped, dad. There was nothing to dramatize there, believe me."

"Oh Blaine, you and your big words. Rape, really." His father's voice fell in contempt now, words striking like a whip. "So you had sex. So maybe the… guy was a bit pushy, maybe you didn't like it like you thought you would. It happens. You can't say you didn't ask for it, can you? No reason to go and call it rape now, don't you think? There's no use involving other people in this, especially the police."

Blaine wanted to say something, scream something, protest, but he couldn't get a word out. He felt as if someone punched him in the stomach. He expected avoidance, maybe anger, but this? He glanced at his mother, seeking help, but she was looking at her hands, her face impassive. His father seemed to take his silence for agreement.

"See, now we're talking reasonably. Surely you don't want to deal with courts, reveal all the details of your private life for everyone to see, do you? Read about it in newspapers? Have _everyone_ know? So tomorrow after school you'll drive to the police and say you withdraw your report, and save everyone the shame and trouble."

"No!" The shout was out before he even thought about it.

"What did you say?"

"I won't withdraw it. I didn't do anything wrong and you won't make me believe I did." He sounded more confident than he felt. Already he had to repeat it to himself, grasp at the words he heard all week from Mr. and Mrs. Hummel, and from Kurt. They sounded so reasonable then, so true, but now? Where was the conviction he felt then? His treacherous mind already let the doubt and guilt back in and they were starting to undermine what he'd rebuilt since the assault. His own father made him feel like shit.

"Fine. Do it your way. But we will not support you in this decision, son. If you want to ridicule and humiliate yourself, shame our name, do it by yourself."

There it was, then. He never really expected support from his parents, he knew them too well for that, but deep down he ached for them to say that it would be all right, that they would help him. His father's words, just like his mother's silence, hurt him more than he was prepared for.

"Fine," he choked out.

He stood up stiffly, carried his dishes to the kitchen and fled to his room, shutting the door behind him just as the first sobs ripped out of his throat. He flung himself on his bed, crawled under the covers and curled into a fetal position.

It was as if his father's little speech made a dent in a dam that held all the horrid memories and Eric's hateful words away. It wasn't a perfect dam. It was crooked and patched, it leaked occasionally, resulting in flashbacks and nightmares, but it helped anyway. But now the hole in the middle was just too big and it all came rushing back – pain, humiliation, helplessness, fear, shame, guilt… He got lost in it, stumbling in the dark, searching for the helping hand he vaguely remembered being somewhere. But it was too dark, too hard, and he was slowly losing the rest of his strength and hope.

Lost inside his head, he didn't feel time flowing, and the next time he looked up, the room was dark and someone was knocking on his door. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. After a moment he heard the door open and his mother's familiar, quiet footsteps approach the bed. She put something on his desk – dinner, judging by the smell – and then stood there for a moment. Blaine willed her with all his might to just sit next to him like she used to, years ago, touch his face, hug him and tell him that she loved him, that at least _she_ would be there to help him with this. But of course nothing like that happened. She just turned away and went out, closing the door silently.

He didn't eat dinner. He got up once, to go to the bathroom, and then came right back to bed, not bothering to shower or change. He would do it in the morning, before school. Now he just wanted to… What? He didn't want to sleep. Or think. Or exist really. Except…

He reached into the desk drawer to find his old cell phone, and transferred the card from the broken one. Fortunately, the battery was still charged. He wouldn't have the energy to look for the charger.

Kurt picked up on the first ring.

"Blaine. I was worried. How are you?"

"Kurt." He couldn't say anything more.

"Oh Blaine. I'm here. Is it that bad?"

"Worse." His voice was rough, his throat sore. He must have cried a lot longer than he realized.

"I'm so sorry. Can I help you in any way?"

"Talk to me."

And he did. He spoke about what he did all day (read, studied and baked cookies with Carole), what game Puck and Finn played too loud in the room opposite (Halo 3), what new outfits he had his eye on. Blaine mostly listened, curled under the covers in darkness. Finally, after over an hour, Kurt stopped his monologue.

"Blaine, you should get some rest."

"I can't." He didn't want to sleep, sleep meant dreams, but his body betrayed him. He yawned. His eyes stung.

"Yes, you can. Remember the CD I gave you? Go put it on and try to sleep. I'm here if you need me, just a phone call away, no matter what time, okay?"

"'Kay. 'Night, Kurt."

"Goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow. And Blaine?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"Love you too."

Blaine hung up, feeling a little bit better. He got up and went to get the disc. He was too tired to turn on the computer and copy the songs to his iPod, so he just popped the disk into the CD player. Soon Kurt's sweet voice was lulling him to sleep, going through _Not Alone_ and _Keep Holding On_, _You Are Loved_ and _Smile_, _I'll Stand By You_ and _Pure Imagination_. There were more, but he didn't hear it as he fell asleep at last.

* * *

><p>"Dad, he sounds <em>so unhappy<em> there! Can't we just kidnap him and let him live here with us?"

"I'm afraid we can't, Kurt. Which doesn't mean I'm not thinking about it. But you can make sure he comes here after school as often as possible, okay?"

"Oh, I definitely will."

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter: Back to school<strong>


	3. Back to school

CHAPTER 3

The next morning, after a night of intermittent sleep plagued with nightmares and reviving himself with massive amounts of caffeine, Blaine stumbled to his locker way too early, only to fall into the waiting arms of his boyfriend.

"Kurt. You're early." The relief he felt to be in a presence of someone who accepted him, _loved him_, was overwhelming.

"So are you. I couldn't wait to see you, what's your excuse?"

"I had to get out of the house, I was suffocating there."

"Your parents…?"

"They think I'm exaggerating and I should just withdraw the report and forget it."

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"Oh my Gaga, it _is_ worse than I thought."

"I know. Me too."

"What about therapy, did you talk to them about that?"

"Not yet. But it may be a problem. My father basically told me I'm on my own in this."

"But Blaine, you need this!"

"I know. I'll talk to them as soon as I'm sure I won't just scream."

They spent some time together before the classes began – time that let Blaine gather some strength. The day wasn't going to be easy. Either this one, or any of the following.

* * *

><p>Blaine knew returning to school would be a challenge. He expected to feel exposed in a large group of people. He knew it would be hard to avoid touch and sudden noises. He tried to prepare. But he never anticipated just how difficult it would all be.<p>

Suddenly he couldn't focus. He sat in class, his thoughts drifting away from the lesson as soon as he allowed himself the slightest distraction. It was not even that he flashed back – he'd known it would happen sometimes, but no, mostly he just found himself thinking about something, anything. Or nothing at all. True, there were moments when the assault came back to him, forcing him into panic mode. Once, he had to dash for the nearest bathroom after he caught a whiff of cigarette smoke through an open window where some of the boys hid to smoke sometimes. He took care never to go that way anymore. Then he almost flunked a History test because Ben, the guy sitting in front of him, looked very much like Eric from behind, especially when he turned his head just-so, and he needed twenty minutes to force this image out of his head, slow down his breathing and focus on the paper. There were dozens of little things like that – the way people high-fived him, like they always did, but suddenly it was not the same innocent gesture. The way everyone wanted to talk to him when all he tried to do was focus on keeping it all together. Once, when Wes came up to him, unnoticed, and patted his back from behind, Blaine almost punched him. But mostly, he was just distracted all the time, overwhelmed by the number of stimuli around him, things he couldn't control.

And Blaine was used to being in control. He'd always worn a kind of a mask in Dalton to appear more composed, prim and proper than he really was, but it was not a problem, because it wasn't out of character for him. He looked at it just as a simple enhancement of certain qualities he possessed that were valued at his school. The façade was easily kept during school hours, loosened in Warblers' meetings and let go of as soon as he went home or met with friends outside school.

Except now keeping up the confident, smiling image became a full-time job, and a strenuous one. Blaine knew he had to pretend that nothing happened. He couldn't bear telling everyone what he became. Not many people were as tolerant and accepting as the Hummels. And he was Blaine Anderson, one of Dalton's best, the lead soloist and popular student. He couldn't just break down and withdraw into himself, even if it was about the only thing he wanted to do now. He had responsibilities. But with so much energy required to just keep up the façade, the rest was crumbling around him. Within a week, his grades took a sharp decline and the teachers, one by one, started looking at him disapprovingly. At the Warblers' practice, where he'd always been happiest, where it had been easy to lose himself in music and fully express himself through it, he just couldn't give it his all anymore. It was a huge responsibility to lead the group, and right now he just wanted someone else to take his hand and lead _him_, show him what he needed to do and how, help him back to himself, to normal. He tried, _so hard_, for over a week. After all, he couldn't disappoint them all, and right before Regionals. But finally, as much as he hated himself for it, he had to admit defeat. It was just too big a risk that he would crash before the competition or, even worse, in the middle of it. It was a responsible thing to do. He would sing in the background for now. Or maybe resign completely, and let someone else take his place, someone more worthy.

When he went to Wes to talk about it, he could see concern in his friend's brown eyes, but didn't explain his decision. He just said that he was tired and needed a break. He let himself be dissuaded from resigning, but insisted on taking as small a role as possible for the time being. Having one less thing on his shoulders helped, but not as much as he hoped. He was still coming apart at the seams. Damn, if he could only get himself together at last!

* * *

><p>Kurt was spending as much time with his boyfriend as he could – they made it a habit to come to school early just so that they could have half an hour for themselves before classes to sit in a secluded corner, hold hands and talk. It seemed to help Blaine steel himself for the day, as much as possible. After school they went for coffee or drove to Kurt's house and worked on their homework together. He was worried though. Blaine tried not to show it, but he was steadily getting worse. The circles under his eyes kept getting darker, his temper was shorter than ever and he got lost in thoughts more and more often, his eyes blank. He never smiled anymore and hardly ate anything if Kurt didn't nag him, claiming to have no appetite. After a week of classes it was already evident that if nothing changes – and soon – he's going to have trouble at school. Kurt hated the fact that he could do nothing about it – the only people who could change anything were Blaine's parents, and they didn't seem to be willing to work on their attitude anytime soon.<p>

Wes approached Kurt halfway through the second week, as he was walking to class after lunch break. Blaine had already gone in the opposite direction, to his English classroom.

"Kurt, can we talk?"

The countertenor glanced at his watch. "Sure, but I've got French in five minutes, so walk with me. What's up?"

Wes hesitated. "It's about Blaine. I know you two are… dating?"

Kurt blushed. "Yes, we kind of are. Why? Is dating among the Warblers frowned upon?"

"No, not at all. In fact, most of us are happy you two finally stopped dancing around each other and got a move on."

"Oh. So what's the problem then?"

"It's just… I figured you'd be the only one who may know: what's going on with Blaine? He came back after the break with this bruise on his face and he said it was an accident, but… He's changed – he's silent, distracted. His singing is different, too. It's like… I don't know, like he lost the spark, haven't you noticed? And yesterday he came and told me he couldn't sing a solo for Regionals. He even wanted to resign altogether. It's completely unlike him. I can see there's something wrong with him. We all can and we're really worried. Please, do you know anything? Maybe we can help somehow?"

The younger boy bit his lip, undecided. Blaine really could use a stronger support system right now. Sure, he had Kurt and the rest of the Hummel-Hudson family, but other than that, he never confided in anyone else. And Kurt couldn't be there all the time, they had some classes separately, there were long periods every day when Blaine was basically alone among people, jumping at every louder noise, flinching whenever anyone brushed against him in passing. The constant stress was affecting him badly, he was already fraying at the edges, and as much as Kurt wanted to protect and soothe him, he was just one person. He knew that Warblers were like family. They took care of their own, closed their ranks around their wounded. He witnessed it just last month, when Kevin's dad was in a hospital after a really bad accident. All the Warblers were there for the boy, discreetly taking care of him in small ways – there was always someone to talk to if he wanted, people helped him with his homework, made sure he ate, gave him rides to the hospital, talked to the teachers to lighten his work load for the time being. Blaine could use all that now, but…

"Wes, it's really not my secret to tell, I'm sorry. You're right, something is wrong and it's bad. I'm sure you guys could help, but I'm just not at liberty to tell you."

The older boy looked at him long and hard, and Kurt hoped he understood the unspoken plea in his eyes, _Please, try to reach out to him, he needs it_. It was all he could do. Finally, Wes nodded once, his face serious.

"I understand. Thank you. And since we're talking, I may as well tell you – you get a solo for Regionals. It will be officially announced at the Warblers' meeting, of course, but…"

"Me? Solo? For Regionals?" Kurt's jaw almost hits the floor.

"Yes. You were our second choice after the auditions and since Blaine withdrew… We'll have to find a song to make the best use of your range of voice, of course. I'm sure it will be something else. So, see you at the rehearsal." And with a wave of his hand, Wes vanished around the corner.

Kurt stood there, blinking. He finally had his chance. But he couldn't help thinking it would feel so much better if it wasn't because of Blaine being too broken to perform.

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter: Interventions<strong>


	4. Interventions

**A/N:** Thank you for reviews :) You are awesome :)

The next chapter (or two, or three…) is pure comfort. Because Blaine really needs comfort now. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 4<p>

When Kurt entered the senior commons that Friday afternoon, Blaine close by his side, tense and exhausted after the whole week, everyone else was already there, looking as if they'd just been waiting for the two of them. Kurt checked his watch, confused. They still had ten minutes until the practice began.

"Um, did we miss a memo about coming early today?"

David smiled from his place behind the desk. "No, you haven't. We've met earlier today, because we had something to prepare. Sit down, you two."

They went to a couch, unsure what was going on. Wes came up to them then.

"We don't usually do things this way, but it was you two who showed us that performing can be used for more than just competition or entertainment, it can be a way to express things and show how we feel. So Blaine, this is how we want to tell you something important now – all of us. Just listen carefully."

The Warblers quickly stood in the well-practiced formation in the center of the common room, Jeff and Nick up front, in the soloists positions, and soon the room was filled with melodic humming. Kurt recognized the song instantly, with a flashback to last year, when he sang it himself with another group of friends, and he grinned, wide and thankful. Yes, Wes understood. Thank god.

Nick started singing now and soon all the voices built up into perfect harmony behind him.

_Sometimes in our lives we all have pain_

_We all have sorrow_

_But if we are wise_

_We know that there's always tomorrow_

_Lean on me, when you're not strong_

_And I'll be your friend_

_I'll help you carry on_

_For it won't be long_

_'Til I'm gonna need_

_Somebody to lean on_

Jeff took over the lead now.

_Please swallow your pride_

_If I have things you need to borrow_

_For no one can fill those of your needs_

_That you don't let show_

_Lean on me, when you're not strong_

_And I'll be your friend_

_I'll help you carry on_

_For it won't be long_

_'Til I'm gonna need_

_Somebody to lean on_

Blaine sat on the couch speechless, mouth open in astonishment, hand squeezing Kurt's. The song was flowing, filling the air around them and slowly coming to an end, Nick's voice backed up by strong vocals of the rest of the group again as he sang.

_If there is a load you have to bear_

_That you can't carry_

_I'm right up the road_

_I'll share your load_

_If you just call me_

When the last notes dissolved into silence, Blaine's cheeks were wet. Kurt could see that he was stunned and moved to the core, but also ashamed, and it saddened him deeply. Blaine was so used to dealing with everything by himself that a simple act of caring initiated by his friends affected him so much that he hardly knew how to deal with it. He acted like he didn't even deserve it.

Wes stepped out of the formation now and addressed Blaine again.

"Blaine, we can see there's something bad going on in your life and we are worried. You don't have to tell us anything if you don't want to. We're not asking what happened. Just tell us how we can help you, make it easier for you, okay? You need your friends, Blaine. Don't be too proud to accept our help, let us take care of you."

Kurt watched as his boyfriend stood up and looked at the rest of the Warblers.

"Guys… I don't know what to say. Just… thank you. This was beautiful. And I really appreciate it. Can we talk about this on Monday, though? I'm really tired after all week and it's not exactly easy to talk about, so…"

Wes nodded eagerly. "Of course."

Blaine smiled then and Kurt's heart felt much lighter. He wouldn't be so alone anymore if he let others in.

* * *

><p>The meeting finished early that day and everyone left the commons, laughing and talking, excited for the weekend.<p>

Kurt slipped his hand into Blaine's slightly bigger one. "Coffee at Lima Bean?"

Blaine sighed wearily. "Not today. I'm dead tired. I just want to collapse on my bed and not have to get up 'til Monday."

"Oh. What about tomorrow? Or Sunday? Will you be able to meet me or do you have plans with your parents again?" Last weekend they couldn't meet as the Andersons insisted on Blaine's spending it with them, which included shopping, family dinner at a restaurant and a visit to some friends. He looked like a ghost on Monday, pale and strained with sleeplessness and stress.

"They are not there so I guess we have no plans."

"What do you mean, they're not there?"

"Just what I said. They're on another trip, they left yesterday and won't be home until Monday evening."

"And you're alone? Again? After all that? This isn't right, honey." They started to use all the little endearments recently, only when they were alone, and Kurt had always thought he would hate to be called _baby _or _love_, but the truth was, his heart melted every time he heard such words from Blaine's lips and he used them back just as eagerly.

"Well, what can I do? They don't exactly ask me for permission. And I'm used to it, really. It's always been like this, only when I was younger, they traveled a bit less and I had a nanny who came to spend evenings and nights when they were away. But for the last two years I'd just been staying alone. It's fine."

"It's not fine, Blaine, especially now. How about that: we'll get your things and you'll go home with me. You can stay with us for the weekend and drive to school with me on Monday."

"Kurt, I can't… I feel like I've intruded on your family long enough. I can't just go and do it again. It's enough that I've been at your house twice this week."

"Come on, you've never intruded. You were our guest. And now you just feel like part of the family. To them, I mean. If you felt like part of the family to me, it would make this thing between us pretty awkward."

"Kurt, I know you have to say that to make me feel better, but I don't want to be a burden."

Kurt could see the weight of loneliness and distress in the amber eyes. He didn't know what Blaine was told at home to make him believe he was just a problem nobody needed, but he couldn't let it sink in any deeper. He grabbed his cell phone, quickly chose a number from quick dial.

"Dad, hi. Blaine is here, so I'll put you on loudspeaker, could you please tell him exactly what you told me yesterday?"

Burt Hummel's gruff voice came from the speaker between them.

"Hello, Blaine. I don't know what it's about, but I just told Kurt to tell you that we miss you already and if your parents are ever ready to let you out of their sight again or have to go for another business trip, then we want you back here with us, okay? You can stay here whenever you want to, you don't even have to ask. So what's this about?"

Kurt answered, because Blaine looked like he was ready to choke on emotions that fought for the lead position in his eyes. Hope, hesitation, relief, fear, gratefulness…

"Blaine's parents are out of town since yesterday. He's coming home with me and staying until Monday."

If his dad was as shocked as he was with the Andersons' absence, he never let it show. "Great. See you two later then, I'll tell Carole that there will be one more for dinner. We could use the help, I swear she baked enough lasagna for half an army. She'll be so happy, she's been asking about Blaine."

"Thanks dad, see you in two hours."

He hung up and looked at Blaine then. "Convinced now? You are no burden, everybody wants you there. We are going to get everything you need and go back to Lima. Unless you honestly prefer to be home alone for the weekend?"

Blaine blinked. "Are you kidding? Of course I'd rather be with you. I can't even sleep when I'm all alone. Why do you think I'm so exhausted today? I spent half the night watching TV because the nightmares were too much."

"Why didn't you call me? I'd have told you to come in a heartbeat."

"I didn't want to be…"

"Yeah, yeah, a burden, I get it. But you know what? You're not. Remember it once and for all. You are not a burden, a trouble or a problem to us, nor will you ever be. And I'm not saying it because I'm nice, or because I love you. I'm not even trying to get in your pants. You've heard my dad. They ask about you every day, how you are, when you're going to come. I'm dead serious when I say you're part of the family now. You've been adopted, informally, because apparently we can't do it for real, but you can't help it now. So you may as well accept it and let us spoil you." Kurt took a tissue out of his bag and gave it to his boyfriend, but not before kissing his wet cheek. "And now wipe your face, since it seems to be raining here, and let's go. Carole's lasagna is heavenly, even if it's heavier than I usually eat, and if we're late, Finn will finish off most of it, no matter how big it is."

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter: Tension<strong>


	5. Tension

**A/N:** Comfort all the way.

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 5<p>

Blaine fell asleep as soon as they took off from his house, his head at an awkward angle that was bound to give him neck strain, but Kurt didn't have the heart to wake him up. He really looked exhausted, like he'd barely slept all week. Which may have been the case, as he let slip once that his nightmares were much more frequent at home, and the CD that Kurt recorded for him wasn't enough to stop them completely, though it soothed him to sleep every night. The additional stress of school didn't help either, and neither did Blaine's parents, as far as he knew. But shouldn't the therapist that he was seeing be able to help him somehow?

Wait, _was _he seeing a therapist? He promised to talk about it with his parents last week. But now that Kurt thought about it, he couldn't remember one mention of it ever since. Every time he tried to ask about anything family-related, Blaine changed the topic. Was he still procrastinating about it or was the therapy just something he didn't want to talk about? He would have to ask him later.

They arrived at their destination at half past seven, and it was time to wake Blaine up. He looked so peaceful and vulnerable like that, so young, that for a while Kurt just sat there, watching, before he called his name softly a couple of times. The amber eyes opened blearily and the boy in the passenger's seat groaned, trying to stretch.

"We're already there? Here, I mean? I must have fallen asleep, why didn't you wake me?"

"I did, just now. You looked like you needed a nap."

"I may have, but you had no one to talk to all this time. And ouch, my neck is killing me."

Grabbing Blaine's bag from the back, they went inside, where they were met by heavenly smells and hugged like they hadn't visited for a month, and soon everyone was sitting at the dinner table.

Even fully engaged in conversation, Kurt could see from the corner of his eye just how groggy and tired Blaine still was. He knew his boyfriend well enough to notice that though he ate and talked, his smile was strained and his eyes heavy, so as soon as they finished eating, Kurt whispered an explanation in his dad's ear, said goodnight to everyone and took their guest upstairs, to his own bedroom.

He took a quick shower while Blaine was unpacking his things, then sent his boyfriend to the bathroom and prepared fresh bedclothes for them. He may have blushed a little, thinking about sleeping with (_next to! it's just next to, Kurt!_) his boyfriend again, but if he did, it certainly wasn't because of anything they may be _doing_ while in bed together. No, it was a long way to anything like _that_ and for now they would probably just cuddle, but the sole presence of the boy he loved so close to him for the whole night was intoxicating. He'd never let anyone so close, not that there was anyone interested. He was so unused to touch that Blaine's proximity, not to mention any actual point of contact, felt like something new and sensational to his body, sending waves of warmth over his skin every single time. Before, Blaine's pain and the need for comfort were so fresh and acute, they were overshadowing everything else. But now, after two weeks of being _together_, holding hands and talking about their emotions, it had finally sunk in and sharing the bed had a different, intimate feeling that made Kurt's heart race and his face blush.

He sat on the bed and waited.

* * *

><p>Blaine stood under streams of hot water for a long while, letting it soothe and relax his aching back. Never before had he noticed just how bad prolonged stress was for the muscles. He felt the dull ache all over his shoulders and upper back all day and after the nap in the car his neck was now stiff too. He hoped a good night's sleep would help, and he knew that he would sleep like a baby here. Kurt's presence was the only thing he knew of that was almost certain to make him sleep peacefully. In his own bed he tossed and turned every single night, sometimes waking up as much as a dozen times. He was desperate to rest at last, so much so that he'd been thinking about taking some of the sleeping pills his mother kept in her bathroom cabinet – the strong, prescription stuff. If Kurt hadn't brought him here, he might actually do it, hoping for a dreamless night. Thankfully, tonight it wouldn't be necessary.<p>

When he returned to the bedroom, it was illuminated only by delicate orange glow of a small lamp on the nightstand. Kurt was sitting cross-legged on the bed, all soft edges and gentle eyes. For a moment, Blaine felt his breath hitch, but not in a bad way. No, this time it was astonishment and delight, disbelief and sheer joy at the fact that this gorgeous, passionate, talented boy believed him to be worthy to wait for like that, to be taken into his arms and held through the night, worthy of his love and his care.

Kurt moved to embrace him as soon as he sat on the edge of the bed, and Blaine couldn't contain a hiss as his back protested against the gentle press of his hand. Kurt jumped and moved away immediately.

"Sorry, sorry! What did I do?"

"It's nothing, just my back. The muscles are a bit sore."

"I bet they are, you're terribly tense." Kurt hesitated for a moment, then asked carefully. "Would you… let me touch you? In an utterly non-sexual way, I promise! Although I would have to touch your back and I don't know how you feel about that. But it can be over the T-shirt."

He was blushing furiously. Blaine's first thought was a decisive _no way!_ – the cuts and bruises from Eric's teeth must have healed by now, though he still hadn't looked, and the skin wasn't tender anymore, but the memories remained, ugly as ever, and the mere thought of anyone touching him there made his mind reel. Yet he bit his tongue before the words had a chance to tumble out and reconsidered. It was Kurt. Kurt would never hurt him. And he said it was nothing sexual.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I thought I could give you a massage, just to loosen the muscles up a little. I've learned the basics some time ago and I was told I'm fairly good. You wouldn't even have to lie down, I can do it while you sit like that, especially the upper half of your back. It's nothing much, but it could help. What do you think?"

Blaine hesitated. "I guess you could try…"

"I'll stop immediately if you feel uncomfortable at any point, okay? Just tell me."

He could feel the bed moving as Kurt settled on his knees behind him, then warm hands rested gently on his shoulders. "Is it okay?"

"Yeah." And it was, he still felt safe, no warning bells were going off.

Kurt pressed his thumbs into the tense muscles of his shoulders and Blaine groaned. It hurt, but in a good way. The boy behind him slowly worked his way across his shoulders and up his neck, then between the shoulder blades, down the spine, massaging and kneading thoroughly, eliciting occasional moans and sighs from his lips. Five minutes into this there was a hesitant knock on the door. Blaine's eyes snapped open as Kurt called C_ome in_, never stopping the massage. Mr. Hummel peered into the room.

"Boys, um… may I ask what you are doing? You are quite, well… loud." Was he blushing? No, surely not. It had to be a trick of light.

"I'm giving Blaine a back massage, he's awfully tense. I guess he likes it." There was a smirk clearly audible in Kurt's voice.

Blaine _definitely_ blushed now and it had nothing to do with light. "Oh, I do. I feel like melting into a puddle of goo."

Burt chuckled. "Okay, I get it. I might have reacted in a similar way the first time he practiced this on me. I just had to check on you, sorry."

"It's okay, dad."

"Good night, Mr. Hummel."

They laughed a little after he went out, Kurt still busy with his amazing, magical hands, and soon Blaine's eyes began to droop.

"Kurt," he slurred. "Would you mind continuing while I lie down? This may just be the best thing that ever happened to me in the touch department and I'm not ready to give it up yet, but I feel like I'm going to fall asleep any second."

"Sure, no problem."

He settled comfortably on his stomach, eyes closed, and was asleep within a minute, forgetting to spare a single thought to the fact that he was in a position where he felt the most exposed and vulnerable, the same position he hadn't even been able to sleep in since _that night_, because it brought back the memories of the attack. Kurt kept massaging, then stroking, and then simply touching his relaxed back for a while longer before he switched off the lamp and whispered in his ear _I love you. Remember, I'm here. You're safe_.

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter: Talking and testing<strong>


	6. Talking and testing

CHAPTER 6

The boys slept late on Saturday and Burt made sure nobody woke them. Kurt may have thought he was the only one who saw right through Blaine's façade of polite conversation and charming smiles last night, but it wasn't so. The kid was visibly exhausted, stressed and barely kept it all together. He needed to rest and recharge his batteries, and if Burt was not mistaken, he still didn't have the luxury to do this at his own home. It was good to have him back here.

But his being here, and particularly Burt's looking in on them last night, prompted a realization he wasn't sure he was ready for: he needed to talk to these two. Which is why that Saturday morning he sent Finn grocery shopping with his mom, where usually he would accompany her himself, and sat by the kitchen table with a newspaper to wait for the boys.

Around ten he could hear voices upstairs, then water running in the bathroom, and soon two pairs of jean-clad legs descended the stairs, followed by two sleepy faces. Admittedly, one was framed by perfectly styled hair.

"Hi boys. Slept well?"

Blaine smiled. "I surely did. Haven't woken once. Kurt says I hogged the quilt though."

"Because you totally did. I had to steal it back and you mumbled at me!"

"What did I mumble?"

"No idea, it was all… mumbly. But it sounded dangerous."

"Oh, so I'm a dangerous, quilt-hogging night mumbler now?"

"Yup."

The light banter continued all through breakfast and Burt was relieved to see that Blaine seemed to be much better.

When the boys finished eating and stacked their dishes in the dishwasher, ready to go back up to Kurt's room, Burt stopped them.

"Hey, before you go… I wanted to talk to you two."

Kurt gave him one look and must have guessed this wasn't a conversation he would like, because he dodged immediately.

"But dad, we have so much homework to do! Can't we talk later?"

"Nope. Believe me, it will be easier without Finn here. Sit down, both of you."

Kurt looked as if he wanted to put fingers in his ears and start singing, and Blaine was clearly nervous as they took their places opposite him. He wanted to tell them that it wouldn't be _that_ bad, but he wasn't sure it was true. How the hell do you talk about sex with your gay teenage son and his sexually traumatized boyfriend? He wanted to have this talk with Kurt for a while now, he even educated himself and got proper pamphlets, trying to prepare for it, but it didn't make it any easier. Finally, he decided to just trust his instinct.

"So, you two… I guess you're together now, right?"

"Yes," they answered in unison.

"Well, good. I mean, it's clear that you are good for each other."

"Does it mean we have your blessing then?" Kurt flashed him a smile.

"I guess you do. But."

"Oh, I knew there would be a but!" Kurt exclaimed. Blaine was still silent, his eyes wary and a bit scared.

"Kurt, just let me say what I need to say, okay? Okay. So. I know I've let you two sleep together up till now, but…"

"But Dad! We…"

"Kurt. Let me finish. I trust you both. You gave me no reason not to. But I would feel like I'm neglecting my parental duties if I didn't talk to you. About… stuff. Sex stuff. No, don't give me that look, I know I don't have anything to worry about _now_. I guess after what's happened, it will take some time before either of you thinks about physical intimacy. But if you are serious about each other, one day you will want to do something – anything – more than holding hands. And I want to make it clear right now, boys," he could see them both holding their breath, "that I expect two things from you. First, that you respect yourselves. Second, that you respect each other and each other's boundaries. I won't tell you what and when you can or can't do, because it's frankly none of my business. In time, you will work it out by yourselves, together. I just want you to be safe and not to hurt each other. So don't hurry and always make sure you both really want something before you do it. Don't treat yourselves like you don't matter, boys. Because you matter. And yes, Blaine, you can still stay in Kurt's room. Now and whenever you are here. And Kurt? I know we've never had this talk before, so… whenever you are ready to read them, there will be a bunch of pamphlets for you on your desk later. And if you want to talk about it, just come to me, okay? Okay. I've finished. That's it, you can go."

They scrambled to their feet – Blaine pale, but smiling tremulously, Kurt with a furious blush on his cheeks – and hurried towards the stairs, but then they stopped and turned to him.

"Thank you, Mr. Hummel."

"Yeah, thanks dad."

He nodded, sighed deeply and went back to his newspaper.

* * *

><p>All day long they kept exchanging glances and giggling at the memory of the morning talk. It felt somehow liberating to know that their relationship was out in the open now, that it was approved, at least here, and to the extent neither of them had even thought about before. And the way Kurt kept smiling at him… God, it made Blaine want to just grab him and kiss him senseless.<p>

Whoa, what?

He stiffened, eyes wide, in the middle of working on an equation for their Math homework. Wait. He wanted to kiss Kurt?

Oh.

He wanted to kiss Kurt. And not just a chaste peck either. He wanted proper kisses with his boyfriend. And he didn't feel uncomfortable about it, the way he thought he would. He felt… certainty, and want, and exhilaration at the thought. He'd imagined that there would be fear when he finally decided to do it, or at least hesitation, that he would have to push himself a little. But there was nothing like that. It was Kurt, his friend, his _boyfriend_, and they'd kissed already, once, and it was perfect. It was safe and had nothing to do with Eric.

He would kiss Kurt.

Just to be sure, Blaine decided to wait with revealing his thoughts until the evening, checking his reactions in case it was just a momentary slip of hormones over fear. But no, every time his eyes met Kurt's, he felt the indescribable _pull_ to just lean in and claim these pink lips as his, which made simple sitting next to him a gentle kind of torture. Once realized, the desire to kiss his boyfriend – to touch his lips, trace it with his tongue, delve into the hot cavern of his mouth – became overwhelming, constantly present like a bee buzzing insistently in his ear. He could barely wait until they were alone in Kurt's room.

But finally, _finally_ it was evening, and they were behind closed door after taking turns in the shower, and Kurt was climbing onto the bed and laying on his back, and all Blaine could think was _Now_. So he leaned on his elbow and looked into his boyfriend's eyes – grey in the soft light of the sole lamp on the nightstand – before he asked.

"Kurt, can I try something?"

"What?"

"Just, let me try. Please."

"Okay."

And then his hand was on Kurt's cheek, and their lips were touching – his gentle, but insistent, Kurt's still – and then there was a sharp inhale and his kiss was reciprocated with enthusiasm he kind of hoped for. And they were kissing, just like that, and it was heaven. At some point one set of lips parted, and then another, and soon their tongues touched, sending shivers down Blaine's spine. Exploration followed, hesitant at first, then bolder, and still they couldn't get enough of each other, hands insistent on cheeks, necks, tangled in each other's hair. Then Kurt moaned quietly, the sound _doing things_ to Blaine that he didn't suspect simple kissing could do, things that just _weren't there_ since the rape, and suddenly he was breaking the kiss, withdrawing, the warning light in his head going off. _Enough. Regain control. No further._ But once his body realized that he wasn't followed, that no one made him do anything, he relaxed.

"Sorry. It was getting a bit out of control."

"Did I do something wrong? Should I be quiet?"

"No, _god_ no. I was just… startled by my… reactions." He could feel himself blush now and when Kurt's eyes widened in understanding seconds later, he blushed beautifully too.

"Oh."

"I guess it will all be kind of… trial and error. With time, I mean, you know…"

"I'm fine with trial and error, as long as you tell me about my errors so that I can avoid them later."

"Deal. But you have to do the same."

"Oh. Yeah, I will."

They lay in silence for a while, their fingers intertwined. Then, "Blaine?"

"Mhm?"

"Does it mean we can still kiss? It wasn't an error, was it?"

"Definitely wasn't. So I hoped we can."

"Good. Because I really want more of this."

"Mhm. Me too."

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter: Admissions<strong>


	7. Admissions

CHAPTER 7

They kept stealing kisses all Sunday, every time they were alone – from soft fleeting pecks on the lips when Carole left the kitchen for a moment to slow, thorough explorations of each other's mouth when they were behind the closed door of Kurt's room. Every time was just as thrilling as the first one. And Blaine wasn't the only one to initiate things now – as soon as Kurt knew they were in the safe zone, doing something they were both comfortable with, he didn't hesitate to take control every now and then. He quickly discovered that if he sucked gently on his boyfriend's upper lip, he was rewarded with a breathless moan, and by the third time he did that, Blaine's mind accepted that nobody was going to force him to do anything here and stopped sending warnings as soon as their kissing turned too hot. As a result, at dinner they were both flushed and smiling so much that Carole smirked at them knowingly. Blaine kind of wanted to call _Look what I can do!_ and kiss Kurt right there, in front of everyone, but he decided it might not be the best idea after all.

Still, he saw it as a huge step forward. Kissing in his mind was now irrevocably associated with Kurt and with happy, amazing, beautiful feelings. It was one thing, the first thing of all those Eric had claimed as his, that they managed to reclaim and turn from traumatic to amazing. If he could succeed with this, maybe with time – a lot of time – and Kurt's help he would be able to do more. Maybe not everything – maybe not ever everything, but every bit of hope helped.

His good mood was quickly dampened when the conversation turned to him though. Burt looked at him over dessert and asked so simply he couldn't really dodge the question like he did with Kurt's all week.

"So how is the therapist? Is she helping you any?"

"Um. I… didn't really call her." Everyone's eyes were on him now.

"Why not? You really shouldn't wait with it, you know? The doctor said the sooner, the better."

"I know. But… I won't be calling her."

"Oh, did your parents send you to someone else?"

"No. They… they refused to send me anywhere. My father… he believes that only really crazy people go to therapy, and I'm not crazy. And he's afraid for anyone to know, any records that could leak one day. He considers going into politics soon, you see, so the image of himself and his family is everything to him. That's why he wanted me to withdraw the report, too. He doesn't want any scandal connected with his name. It's bad enough that he has a gay son who refuses to hide his perversion and play his role like a good boy." He wasn't planning on saying quite that much, but the bitterness overflowed before he could stop it.

He glanced around the table, suddenly ashamed. Carole was covering her mouth with a hand, her eyes tearful. Burt looked like he was about ready to strangle someone. Kurt's face was so very, very sad as he squeezed his hand. Only Finn was still eating, his brow just furrowed slightly. Carole spoke when a moment of silence lengthened uncomfortably.

"That's… that's terrible, Blaine. You really need to get some help. Do you want us to talk to your father?"

"No! No, please don't. It would only anger him further, really. There's nothing to do here, when he decides something, there's not much that can change his mind." He shrugged. "I'll just have to accept it."

"How about the school counselor? Dalton must have one, right?" Kurt looked hopeful.

"Mhm. I gather you haven't met her."

"No?"

"She's great. With career advice and stuff like motivation and stress. Other than that? Not so much. She's in her sixties, very religious, and she treats students like five-year-olds. Not someone I would be comfortable discussing sexual issues with."

"Oh."

"I guess I'll have to keep trying with my parents. Maybe they'll cave one day."

* * *

><p>When they were driving to school on Monday, Kurt brought up the topic of the Warblers.<p>

"So what are you going to tell them?"

"The truth, although not all of it." Blaine had actually thought about it a lot this weekend. "I don't want to be perceived as a rape victim, you know? It's still a kind of stigma, and it stays with a person. I know it will probably be common knowledge once the… the trial begins, but I want to protect my privacy as much as I can. So I'm just going to tell the guys that I was attacked and I have some problems because of it – that I react badly to touch, sudden noises, crowds, I have trouble concentrating... Which is essentially the truth."

"Good. I think they can really help."

"I know they can. Just the fact that I will have one more place where I'll be able not to pretend – that's a lot. Do you have any idea what a strain it is to play being fine all the time? At school, at home… No, wait, you of all people probably know that. Sorry."

"Yeah, except I never needed to pretend at home. That would be _really_ tough. But I'm glad you decided to trust them and let them help."

"Well, I figured I have to let people help me if I want to stay sane. And I know I'm bad at it. I'm just used to dealing with everything alone and taking care of myself. I've been doing it for a long time now."

"I know, and I'm proud of you, you know? That you decided to trust my family, and now the Warblers."

"I'm learning."

They were in the Dalton parking lot already. And since they couldn't really kiss at school, due to its anti-PDA policy, Kurt parked his Navigator in a distant corner and they used the time they still had before their first class to get enough of each other to let them survive the day.

Kissing was highly addictive, it turned out. There should be warnings about it, really.

* * *

><p>The Regionals were just days away, so Monday practice was serious, intense and fully dedicated to finally determining their set list and getting to work on it. They'd already decided last week that their second number would be <em>Raise Your Glass<em>, lead by Jeff, but Kurt still didn't know his song for the solo. Of course, ever since he learned about his chance, he kept finding Wes at least three times a day to suggest songs that would best use his voice range (and suit his taste), but the older boy just nodded, smiled and said "We'll see" every time. It was highly unnerving, really.

But the council must have deliberated over it during the weekend, because David was distributing sheet music as soon as the meeting began. Kurt sat in the far corner and was one of the last ones to get his copy, but already the silent snickers and groans he heard made him antsy. And not without a reason, it turned out.

"Taylor Swift? You want me to sing a Taylor Swift song? Really?"

Wes raised a brow. "Is this a problem? She's in your range, right?"

"Of course, but… Taylor Swift?"

"What? She's an excellent singer." More snickers all around the room. Wes's undying love for Taylor Swift was as well known as Blaine's adoration of Katy Perry. "I spent all weekend preparing this song for an acapella group, so it's all set. Let's get to work."

Kurt groaned. A solo was a solo, and he would sing like there was no tomorrow, of course – he wasn't one to pass an opportunity like that – but really, to sing a banal girly love song as his first real solo performance… He turned to Blaine.

"Are you sure you don't want to sing a duet with me? I bet we could do something better than that, and they would let _you_ choose a song."

"No, Kurt, I'm sorry. I can't be in the spotlight right now. I just need to back off and focus on not losing it."

"I know, I know. It's just… Taylor Swift."

"You'll do great."

"Of course I will. Even though I'd rather do great, singing something more _me_."

David called them to order then and the work began.

* * *

><p>After they went through the song countless times (and even Kurt finally admitted that their adaptation of <em>Haunted <em>was at least interesting, even though he still didn't consider it competition-worthy) and were all a sweaty mess from trying three different versions of choreography for _Raise You Glass_, Blaine raised his hand, asking to speak. Everyone was more or less sprawled on coaches and armchairs by this point, exhausted, but seeing him stand up front, the boys sat up and listened as he provided basic information about his attack and resulting problems. He still felt uncomfortable confiding in others against his long-held belief that he should be able to deal with anything and everything by himself. But he already knew how unrealistic it was. If he had been left to himself right after the rape, like he wanted to, who knows how much worse he would be by now. Who knows if he would even _be here_.

Just as he expected, nobody asked him for more information than he was ready to disclose, and reactions varied from incredulity to anger. The extent to which his friends could help became evident as soon as Blaine hit the first Kurt-less break on Tuesday. Immediately he was flanked by two of the Warblers, providing him company while discreetly buffering him from students milling around. It went on all day, his guards changing. At first it felt weird, but soon he got used to it and having additional people to talk to gave him distraction from his panicky thoughts. Suddenly the teachers went easier on him and it wasn't until Mrs. Johnson, their strict Geography professor, told him that he could re-sit a failed test "when he felt better" that he realized some of the seniors must have worked their magic on the staff and disclosed just a bit of information about his predicament to ease it for him academically. Of course, it was Dalton Academy, they would make sure he worked hard for his grades later, but apparently now they were giving him a while to gather his bearings.

And he was grateful for the respite at school, because his home life has been hell for the last two weeks. Or at least, what hell might be like if it was frozen. It was as if this house sucked everything that was even marginally warm and good right out of his mind – each of the few joyful feelings, all the hope, the will to fight. He was always more anxious here, more depressed, never got more than four hours of intermittent, nightmare-ridden sleep. He barely left his room, except on the rare occasions when his parents demanded he came down and ate late dinner with them. Uncomfortable silence hung heavy over the table on such occasions.

His father barely spoke to him at all, and if he did, it was only to snap something about idiotic decisions and drama queens, his mother pretended nothing happened and tried to engage him in small talk whenever they had to spend any time together, and just yesterday evening, when his parents came back from New York, there was a huge row about his grades. Well, at least when it started, it was about his grades – apparently, the school called his parents on Friday to inform them about his recent "change in attitude" – but he added fuel to the fire, saying that maybe if they sent him for therapy and let him deal with the trauma, his grades would go back to normal. Which only caused further problems, of course – a long rant about ungrateful children who would do anything just to be the center of attention. The last thing he heard before he slammed the door to his room shut was a promise that if he doesn't improve within a week, he'd be completely grounded for the rest of the school year – no social life outside classes, not even Warblers.

He was just so tired of it all.

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter: Summoned<strong>

For the record: I have nothing against Taylor Swift, I just imagine it wouldn't be exactly Kurt's choice of music :) Still, I think this particular song (_Haunted_) might sound interesting sung by _this voice_.

I'd love to hear what you think so far :)


	8. Summoned

CHAPTER 8

As much as he dreaded this phone call, he knew it would come one day soon, so he tried to prepare, to think about it and get used to the thought. Still, when the display of his phone finally flashed with _Det. Pavlova_ on Tuesday evening, he felt cold fear grip him by the throat. This was it. She said she would call when the date of the trial was set. Eric's trial. Where Blaine would have to testify. In court. Against his rapist. Who would sit there and look at him.

His voice was rough when he finally found the strength to answer the phone.

"Yes?"

"Hello, Blaine. This is detective Pavlova. I wanted to ask you to come to the station tomorrow afternoon, I need to talk to you. Would five be alright?"

"Yes, I think so. It's… it isn't the trial yet, is it?"

"No, just some loose ends to tie. Could you bring one of your parents with you?"

"No. They want nothing to do with it. Actually, they wanted me to withdraw the report, but I refused."

"I see." Her voice got serious. "Well, you could always come with your friend, like last time."

"Why? Is it something bad? Are you making sure there's someone to take me home if I freak out?"

There was a pause before she answered. "I don't know. I don't think it's bad, but… it's always better to have someone there with you. See you tomorrow then."

She hung up and Blaine just sat there for a long while, clutching his phone tightly. Then, with shaking fingers, he sent an SOS to Kurt.

* * *

><p>Two hours later he was sitting at a kitchen table with a family that wasn't his, yet felt like much more than his own. After Carole handed everyone mugs of hot tea, Burt asked, his expression worried.<p>

"So what does this mean, is the trial date set?"

Blaine had time to calm down a little on his way here, but the tremor inside wouldn't disappear. Still, he felt much better surrounded by people who understood. Here, he didn't need to pretend he was fine. Because he wasn't and they knew it. And the best part was, they accepted him anyway.

"Well, I don't know. She didn't say anything really. It sounded as if she had news and she thought it wasn't bad, but she wasn't sure how I'd react. She was talking about tying loose ends, I have no idea what she meant."

Finn's face flashed with understanding. "Dude, maybe it'll be like the confrontation on crime shows where you have to pick the bad man from a bunch of others!"

Oh.

His heart was suddenly doing weird things inside his chest and there was less oxygen in the air than he was used to. He tried to get as much as he could, panicky, certain he was going to die if he doesn't breathe fast enough.

"Finn!" Two voices in unison. Then there was a paper bag pressed to his mouth and somebody was stroking his back in soothing circles, saying _It's okay. There's enough air. Slow down. Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly. Calm down. Breathe slowly, Blaine_. And he had no energy to do anything but listen to this voice and follow the words, and soon the oxygen was back and breathing was easy again. He felt as if he just run a marathon though, weak and shaky, his heart pounding.

"What… what was this?" He couldn't quite catch his breath yet.

Carole looked up at him from where she was kneeling on the floor with the paper bag.

"You were hyperventilating. It happens sometimes when people are anxious or during a panic attack. It's good to breathe into something then, like a paper or plastic bag, otherwise you may pass out."

"Oh."

Finn was hunched in his chair, white as chalk, mumbling a litany of _Sorry, I'm so sorry_.

"Okay, it's getting late and you all have school tomorrow, so off to beds with you." Mr. Hummel's voice was calm and decisive. "Blaine, you and Kurt come back here after classes tomorrow and I'll go with you to the station. Your family may think otherwise, but I believe you need an adult there. Now go, all three of you. Yes, you too. It's much too late for you to drive back, and you are too shaken anyway. I'll call your parents to say you're staying over. Have a good night."

* * *

><p>It was anything but good. Blaine didn't think even the first night after the assault was as bad – at least he was still kind of numb then. Even Kurt's presence couldn't help now, he still woke up screaming time and again from vivid dreams where Eric stood over him with handcuffs, laughing diabolically, or approached him in a deserted courtroom, whispering <em>come here, my perfect little slut, I promise you'll like it<em>. After this last one he gave up on sleeping and just lay, trembling, curled up against Kurt, who stroke his arm soothingly and hummed sweet, comforting melodies. It was five in the morning. In twelve hours he would know what to expect and when. Still, the thought of testifying…

"Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared."

"I know, baby."

"What if I see him in court and just throw up? Or panic, just like today, and pass out? Or won't be able to say anything at all with him looking at me? What if he goes free because I won't have enough courage to describe everything he did to a room full of strangers that will watch me and listen and imagine all this and pity me? I don't know if I can do that, Kurt. With every passing moment I'm more certain that I can't. But if I don't, he goes free too, and then what?" He felt so helpless.

"How about those cases where they let you testify in a separate room and just record it to show in the courtroom? Maybe something like that could be arranged? We can ask when we're there later. It would be easier, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, maybe…"

"And don't ever say that you don't have enough courage. You are amazing and brave, you survived all this and reported it, you fight it every day and do everything you can to recover. Do you think I can't see it? How you try, how you fight with yourself, don't let it defeat you? You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, Blaine. And I'm so proud of you for reaching out for help when you need it. I know how difficult it is for you. If only we could get your parents to help…"

"It would be good."

"Yeah. So, do you want to try to sleep some more or would you rather watch a movie?"

"No more sleeping today, thank you very much. But I can go watch something downstairs so that you could rest some more."

"Don't be silly, I'm not leaving you alone today."

"I hoped you would say that."

* * *

><p>The morning was gloomy and cold as they stopped by his house so that he could quickly change into his uniform. Classes felt like they were never going to end and their tired eyes stung by the time they got to the Warblers meeting. At least the new routine for Regionals was coming together splendidly and by the time they got to the car, Kurt was still breathless and excited. But reality kicked in on the way and with every passing mile the atmosphere in the car became more and more somber.<p>

* * *

><p>When they arrived to the station, detective Pavlova was already waiting and she led them to her office immediately. Blaine felt like his legs were trying to give way, and he couldn't suppress the violent shaking of his hands. Mr. Hummel's arm steady around his shoulders and Kurt's warm hand in his cold one were the only things tethering him to sanity, giving him strength.<p>

"You don't have to testify," the words tumbled out of the woman's mouth as soon as she closed the door behind them.

_Wait, what_?

"What? And you couldn't have told him yesterday? Do you have any idea what he went through before this meeting?" Kurt was in his Righteous Indignation Mode at once, his personal knight in shining armor.

"I couldn't. I'm sorry. Not on the phone, and it wasn't even signed yesterday. Now it's certain. There will be no trial."

_But_…

Burt jumped in. "What do you mean, no trial? Are you saying the bastard will walk? After what he did?"

"Oh, no way. He just agreed to a plea bargain. All the papers are signed, he'll be moved to his new home any minute now."

Blaine couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. He sat heavily on the closest chair, leaving talking to the others. Burt's hand remained on his shoulder, comforting weight.

Kurt hesitated. "But didn't you say last time that he denied everything?"

"He did. But things changed. First, his parents refused to help him in any way, so he'd have to make do with a public defender and with everything we have on him, he had no chance to wiggle out of this without a magician. And second… there was a new development that I'm not allowed to tell you about, that made him come to us begging for a bargain. He plead guilty to all three rapes and told us about one more we didn't know about. In return, he agreed to 20 years in prison without right to parole, but served in safer conditions."

"What do you mean, safer?" Burt was confused.

"Well, it's not something we are proud of, but sometimes things… happen in prison. It's not an entirely safe place, you know, with so much anger and testosterone locked up together. And hypothetically, it could happen that a prisoner is, for example, sexually advanced upon by his own cellmate. And, theoretically, if said prisoner had never been in quite this _position_ before, he may not be entirely happy to try this with, say, a rather forceful 300-pound wrestler. Which may prompt him to seek refuge in other penitentiary where he is promised to get a single cell. Theoretically, of course."

Kurt gasped. "Are you telling us that Eric was assaulted in prison? And he's never been the one… um… taking… before, is that it?"

Detective Pavlova looked at him levelly. "I'm not telling you anything. I'm not _allowed_ to tell you anything. I was just commenting on the regrettable lack of safety in our penitentiaries. Unfortunately, it seems to be worse for young, attractive men, especially when there's rumor they were molesting minors. By the way, have I told you Eric's first victim, the one we didn't know about, was only 15?"

Blaine felt sick. He felt quite a lot of other things, too, so much so that he couldn't even start to make sense of them. One was certain: relief. It was as if a huge boulder was lifted from his shoulders and only now did he feel just how heavy it had been.

"So what now?" he managed, his voice breaking.

Detective Pavlova looked at him with compassion.

"Nothing. That's it. The case is closed. You don't have to worry about it anymore, you can focus on healing. You did a good thing here, Blaine. A brave thing, braver than many grown men would manage. If you hadn't reported it, this man would have continued to hurt more people. Now he's locked up for good. You should be proud of yourself. _I'm_ proud of you."

"We all are," Mr. Hummel squeezed his shoulder. "So we can go?"

"You can go."

"Thank you, detective. Come on, boys. There are things to celebrate."

* * *

><p>Blaine wasn't sure he was ready to celebrate. In fact, the closer they were to the Hummel-Hudson home, the more lost he felt. He sat in silence, not even noticing how tight he was clenching his fists until Kurt took one of them and stroked it gently.<p>

"Hey. Everything alright?"

"I don't know."

They were in the driveway now, getting out of the car, and Blaine felt like crying. It was insane, he should be overjoyed. And part of him was, but there were other parts, those that he didn't entirely understand, that just wanted to know _what now_.

Kurt took his hand and led him, unprotesting, inside and to the living room couch. Burt vanished for a moment in the kitchen and came back with Carole, who sat down next to Blaine and took his other hand.

"There's something bothering you."

"Yeah."

"Can we help in any way?"

"I don't know. I'm not even sure what it is. It's just… all this time, there was always something to do before I could focus on myself. On getting it all back together. Going to the police, talking to my parents, the trial. And now… there's nothing. There's only this. And I have no idea where to even start, what to do. I'm lost here. And there's only my whole life at stake. No big deal." He let out a shaky, bitter laugh.

No one said anything, because what could they say, really? Everyone in the room knew that Blaine should be seeing a therapist, someone who could lead him and help with his recovery. If only his parents let him… As it was, he could only lay with his head in Kurt's lap and soak in his comforting presence before he had to go back home.

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter: Tell me why<strong>

Yes, I know, that was mean. Bad, bad author, hurting her OCs in a mean, mean way...


	9. Tell me why

CHAPTER 9

If there was one thing to say about Carole Hummel-Hudson, it was that she was determined. Of course, she was a lot of other things as well, such as perceptive, caring, warm and forgiving, but if it wasn't for her determination, she would have never survived alone with her son when her first husband died. She knew she had to do it for her little boy.

The same determination, though with another boy on her mind, led her now, as she was driving towards the Andersons' house. Blaine said once that while his father always worked since the early morning hours, his mother was more of a night person and never left home before 11 am. Which is why Carole hoped she could get the woman alone now, at 9:30 on a school day. It was no use trying to talk some sense into her if her husband was there – he was clearly the head of the family and his was the last word. But maybe alone, his wife would listen. Maybe she could talk to her, mother to mother.

Pulling into the long driveway in front of a big, beautiful house, she wondered again if it was the best idea. Maybe she shouldn't meddle after all. What if she just imagined the look of worry and doubt on Mrs. Anderson's perfectly made-up face, the hint of tears in her eyes before she blinked them away, as they were leaving with the boy? What if her visit here would make it worse for Blaine?

She shook her head. How could she make it worse? The poor kid was already treated like he wasn't there by his own parents, like he didn't matter at all. If there was even the slightest chance of helping him, she had to try. If she just makes a fool of herself, so be it.

She got out of the car, went to the front door and rang the bell. After a moment, it opened to reveal Mrs. Anderson in a red silk robe, her make-up already on, but long black hair still loose. Carole smiled nervously.

"Hi. I'm Carole Hummel. I…"

"I know who you are." The woman's smile was cool, reserved. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I wanted to talk about Blaine."

There was a moment of hesitation, then the door were opened further.

"Come in. Coffee? I've just brewed a fresh pot."

* * *

><p>They sat at the table in a luxuriously equipped kitchen, cups of steaming coffee in hands, awkward silence between them. Mrs. Anderson spoke first.<p>

"So… your son is gay, too?" It wasn't really a question, she must have known already.

"Kurt is. My step-son, but he's like a second son to me. I married his father four months ago."

"So you actually had a choice. To have a gay child. How do you deal with it?"

Carole furrowed her brow. What a weird question.

"There's nothing to deal with. Kurt is an extraordinary boy, really talented and caring, and I love him like my own. And what if he's gay? It just means a little different set of parental problems and more reasons to worry, because his life will always be harder than it should be, especially here. Other than that, it's just like raising Finn – they are the same age."

The woman looked at her with something close to disbelief, but caught herself quickly and her expression returned to neutral.

"So you wanted to talk to me about Blaine."

"Yes. Mrs. Anderson…"

"Please, call me Lilian."

"Lilian, did Blaine told you about his visit at the police yesterday?"

"Yes. He said there will be no trial so he won't have to testify."

"Did he tell you why?"

"No. We assumed the man was let go."

Carole's first stunned reaction was _And you didn't ask? What kind of parents are you?_, but she came here determined to keep herself in check, so she bit her tongue and said calmly instead,

"He wasn't. He accepted a plea bargain. He pleaded guilty to four rapes. One of the boys was underage. The man is in prison now, he got 20 years without right to parole."

There was a gasp from the other side of the table.

"So it really was… rape?"

"Of course it was! Did you doubt it for even a minute? Didn't you hear what my husband told you? Didn't you see your son's face and shoulder? His back? His wrists?" She could see the questioning look at Lilian's face. Her forced composure was failing her, she just _felt_ so strongly about it. "Oh. He didn't show you. And you didn't ask? Why, for god's sake? Why are you so distant to him? He needs you _so much_. Especially now. He's so lost, Lilian, so broken. We can be there for him, his friends can help him some, but he needs more than that. He needs his parents, and he needs therapy to get over the trauma. Why would you deny him your attention, your closeness, your help? Your own child?"

There were tears in the other woman's eyes now, though she fought valiantly not to let them flow.

"It's… it's better this way. If I get any closer to him, he'll be able to feel my… distaste. It's better if he just thinks I'm distant. You see, I can't accept his life choices, it's against everything I believe in. I can't help it. But I don't want him to feel it."

Carole felt suddenly sick, excellent coffee she was drinking burning her throat like acid now. "Homosexuality is not a choice, it's something he was born with, I'm sure you know it."

"No, I'm not talking about him being gay. I mean, maybe partially I am, it's the core of the problem after all. But unlike my husband, I don't care if Blaine likes girls or boys, it's just that I can't condone the lifestyle he chooses."

"I don't understand."

"I'm talking about the sexual promiscuity. Multiple partners, one-night stands, all the risky behaviors. I'm not a religious person and I know waiting with sex for the wedding night is unrealistic nowadays, but I've always taught Blaine to respect himself and his body, but also other people. I can't look at him sleeping around and not feel disgusted, even if I'm ashamed to feel this way about my own child."

It took a moment for Carole to find her voice and pick her jaw up from the floor. Of all the things she expected to hear…

"Wait. Let me make it clear. You think that your son is sleeping around? And that's how he got himself into this situation, so he's to blame? Where does that come from? Do you even _know_ Blaine?"

"Well, I thought I did. We used to have a really good relationship once. But lately, for about two years now, it's been all about boys. It started when he was fifteen, maybe a little earlier. After he transferred to Dalton. I know he's having boys here when we're away – and let me tell you, it scares me, but I guess it's better than some dirty motels or back seats of cars parked in public places, so I don't say anything. Sometimes he even sneaks them in when we are home. If he's like that now, here, I can't imagine what will happen when he goes to college, to a city where people are more open, where there are more opportunities. He'll probably lose himself completely. My son. The sweet, talented boy I raised." She shook her head, bitter, disappointed expression on her face.

"But… What makes you think he's really doing anything inappropriate? Have you asked him?"

"Well, no, but I can see it. The way he behaves, the way he talks… He used to be quite introverted, a little shy when he was younger. Then at 15 he suddenly became confident, a bit cocky even. He started going out a lot, talking openly about boys – there was always _this_ boy or _that _boy, I just heard names, constantly changing. A couple of times he admitted he had _sleepovers_ or _movie nights_ here when we were away. And then there was this one time when I went to close the window in his room in the middle of the night and I could hear _sounds_ through the door. Sexual sounds. I didn't enter, of course. And I found a half-used bottle of personal lubricant in his drawer later, next to a box of condoms."

"Okay. Let me tell you how I see what you just described. Your son changed schools and discovered that people actually liked him in Dalton and didn't care about his sexuality. He became popular, which made him more confident. He grew up and started to have teenage crushes, so he was talking about them. Or maybe just about his friends from an all-boy school. He took advantage of a conveniently empty house every now and then to invite friends for movie nights or maybe a little party. You caught him watching porn at night – I had this dubious pleasure too, by the way, more than once, with my straight son. And you found evidence that he masturbates and is careful enough to have condoms on hand _just in case_ something happens one day. Or maybe because he wanted to learn how to use them. All of which are completely normal teenage behaviors. And what you gather from these is that your kid is sleeping around? Why?"

"Well, that's what gay men do, isn't it? They start early, they change partners all the time, rarely form lasting relationships…"

"Says the stereotype that has little to do with an average gay man."

"How can you know?"

"Because I've read a lot about it before I became part of this family. So that I could be a good mum to Kurt. And because I _talk_ to them. Both Kurt _and_ Blaine. And they want just the same every teenager wants – to find this one special person, to fall in love, be in a good relationship, maybe one day get married, maybe have children. They are normal kids. The only difference is who they like and how much more difficult they have it."

"So you are telling me that Blaine is all pure and innocent."

"He was. Before he was assaulted. Don't tell him I told you this, but I think you need to know. This man? It was your son's first kiss. And first _everything_. And everything except the kiss was _forced_."

The tears were flowing from Lilian's eyes at last, leaving black smudges of mascara in their wake. She choked out a single sob and covered her mouth with a manicured hand for a moment, before she stuttered,

"But… but he's always acting so… so confident and flirty, and just plain sexy when I see him in other boys' company…"

"Yes, he's a very good actor, isn't he? I was fooled too, the first few times he was visiting Kurt."

"And you're certain…"

"I am."

"Oh god, what have I done… All this time I thought… What do I do now? My poor boy, he must believe I don't care about him at all…" She was crying in earnest now, utter desperation on her face.

"Well, you could talk to him. _Really_ talk to him. Let him tell you what happened. What he feels. What he's afraid of. Show him that you care, that you love him, that you'll help him. And for god's sake, send him to a therapist or he'll be scarred for life. He _really_ needs it. He has a contact to someone specializing in sexual assault cases in his wallet."

The woman nodded shakily, then wiped her face, took a few deep breaths and picked up a phone. When she spoke, she sounded completely calm and collected, even though Carole could still see tears shining in her eyes.

"Carl, I'm not coming to the office today. Please take over my 12 o'clock staff meeting, the notes are on my desk. I've got something important to do here."

She hung up and looked at Carole.

"Thank you for coming here. And for helping Blaine the way you all did. You have no idea how grateful I am. I may seem cold, but… he's my baby. My only baby. And I was such an awful mother to him…" She was crying again.

"Hey," she touched Lilian's hand, "you'll make it better. You can still rebuild your relationship. Just… take care of him. And make sure he gets professional help. And when you go for another trip, send him to us, okay? We'll be happy to have him there."

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter: Miracles<strong>


	10. Miracles

**A/N:** I swear, these chapters just keep growing when I'm not looking. This one is 2400 words. The next one will be around 3000. Sorry, I can't help it :)

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 10<p>

When Blaine got home on Thursday, he was already in a miserable mood. It was another hard day at school, with too little control and way too much stress. His Chemistry teacher, the only one who didn't seem to want to make it any easier for him, humiliated him in front of the entire group, commenting on his absent expression and glazed eyes. Fine, he was lost in thought again. He couldn't help it. Then, to make matters worse, his lab partner tried to get his attention, grabbing his wrist as he was passing by in the cafeteria during lunch. It was _not_ a good idea. The outcome included a dropped lunch tray, a _lot_ of apologizing to the guy for flinging him against some chairs – hard enough to topple them over – and a shouting fit by Kurt, who attacked the floored (or rather, chaired) boy with scathing lecture about personal boundaries. All in all, he was sure they both gained reputation as unstable after that. Lovely. Just what he needed, being the latest victim of the Dalton rumor mill.

And now it was time for the other half of his wonderful day. Home sweet home. At least his father would come late tonight – it was his weekly poker night at the club, so Blaine wouldn't have to sneak around the house, trying to avoid his cutting remarks.

As he closed the door behind him, he froze. Something was off. The air didn't seem right. Then his eyes widened: the smell! The house smelled like cooking. And not just any cooking; like fresh herbs and crushed garlic, tomato sauce and meatballs. It was a smell of his childhood. Of comfort food – the spaghetti his mom used to make for him whenever he was particularly sad or got hurt. He couldn't remember when he smelled it last. But… how could he smell it now? The house was empty, his mom wouldn't be back from the office for _hours_. Only then would she go to the kitchen, to prepare dinner for the next day. But not the spaghetti. Never the spaghetti anymore, because his father didn't eat pasta. So was he having hallucinations now, on top of everything else?

Blaine set his bag on the floor and slowly, carefully peered into the kitchen. He was prepared to see it empty, the heavenly smell a product of his imagination. Or maybe some crazy burglar broke in and was cooking dinner for himself. What he wasn't prepared for was…

"Mom?"

She was just standing there, by the oven, stirring the sauce and humming to herself, and she looked like… like the mom he used to have years ago. When she still loved him. She was out of power suit, in black jeans and a plain red t-shirt, barefoot. Her hair was loose, her face without make-up. He felt as if he traveled back in time and was thirteen again, coming home from school to the smell of dinner and his mom's cheerful voice singing in the kitchen. He would drop the bag and join her in song if it was a good day. If it wasn't, if the other kids were teasing him again, he would go and lay his head on her shoulder, and she would hug him and ask what happened. And he would tell her, and she would hug him tighter and play with his curls and say that it would get better eventually, that people were sometimes mean to those who were special, and he _was_ special and strong and amazing. And it would help.

But it was years ago, when his mom still cared about him. About anything, not just the company. She couldn't be here like that now, right?

Except she was. And she was _smiling_ at him. Her real smile, the one he almost forgot, not that fake grin she wore around him all the time now.

"Hi, honey! I thought you'd be home earlier."

"Long Warblers' practice, the last one before Regionals tomorrow. Mom, what are you doing here?"

"What does it look like? I'm cooking dinner for us, of course."

"But… why aren't you at the office? Are you sick?" Yes, that was the only explanation.

"No, I just wanted to spend some time with you, so I took a day off."

Blaine felt his mouth open in surprise. A _whole day_ off? It hadn't happened in… hm, probably ever. And just to be _with him_? He didn't know what was happening, but he wasn't going to complain. He would take as much as was given, as long as it lasted. Because it wouldn't last long, he knew.

"Go change and wash your hands. We'll eat in ten minutes."

* * *

><p>They did and it was lovely. The spaghetti was just as he remembered it, except even better, and this in itself made him feel so much safer, as if a thick plush blanket of comfort was tucked around him. And they were talking, <em>really<em> talking – this type of talking that involved listening to the other person. Of course, he was very careful not to mention anything connected with his recent problems or his sexuality; after all, he wanted this miracle to last as long as possible, and reminding his mom what he was would be a sure way to break the spell. But he told her about the Regionals, without explaining why he didn't have a solo this time, about their preparations and the crazy choreography, and Kurt's constant lamenting over "being the next Taylor Swift". She in turn told him about their new manager at the company, who was an excellent specialist, but his fervent belief in supernatural made him and his quirks a source of constant entertainment.

After dinner his mom made them coffee and he followed her to the living room, astonished and delighted that it wasn't the end of their time together yet, and feeling better than he had all week. They settled on the comfy black sofa, closer than they'd sat in years, and his mother asked, touching his hand,

"So how was your day?"

"Fine. Uneventful." He answered too fast, eager to get off the risky topic, afraid that his eyes may betray him.

"Blaine, don't give me that show face, baby. How was it _really_?"

Right. Who was he kidding. It was his mother, she could look right through him when she wanted to. So that was it, the end of bonding time. He may as well tell the truth.

"It was _terrible_. I couldn't focus again. And then I shoved a guy, because he grabbed my wrist when I didn't expect it and I flashed back, so I reacted on instinct."

"Does it happen often?"

"What, the shoving? No, usually I just jump out of my skin when someone touches me suddenly. But it was the wrist, and he grabbed me and… it just reminded me."

"Of what?"

He was just tired now. Tired and sad and disappointed, and his hands shook and he felt like crying. And then he just got angry.

"Of the damn handcuffs, okay?" He heard his mom gasp, saw her cover her mouth, but he was unable to stop now, weeks of pent-up anger at his parents spilling over, unleashing the need to hurt, to cruelly tell her _everything_. "Of the fucking handcuffs that fucking bastard put on me so that I couldn't move, couldn't run, so I was trapped there, laid out and exposed for him to take me, to fuck me and hurt me and… Is that what you wanted to know?"

He was shouting at this point, tears streaming down his face, he was just _so damn tired_, he wanted to get better, to forget, to be himself, to be accepted. He knew he wanted too much.

Except then he felt arms around him, pulling him into embrace, hugging him tightly to a warm, sweet smelling shoulder, and his mom was stroking his hair and repeating "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" until her own tears choked her up.

Part of him was stunned and shocked and suspicious, and still trying to think and analyze, but it was a really small part. The rest just wanted to sink into his mother's embrace and trust her, give up fighting and pretending and just let her hold him. So he did. He sat there, sobbing into his mom's shoulder over all the pain and injustice of what happened to him, hoping that she got him now, that he'd be fine, and she whispered in his ear "It will be alright, I promise. We'll get you help, we'll get through this together. I'm so, so sorry I'm so late to understand, but I'm here and I'm not leaving, and I love you so much."

And when he finally raised his head, he saw her eyes, red from crying just like his, but unguarded, honest and full of emotion. And when she swore to him that she'd be there for him from now on, he believed her, because he wanted it so, _so much_.

The conversation that followed was long and painful for both of them. There were confessions and tears and regrets. Blaine couldn't believe that his own mom could assume such idiotic things about him – as if she didn't know him, as if she couldn't have just asked! All this time when his heart broke because he thought she stopped loving him, all the nights he cried into his pillow, all the pain he had to go through alone – all because of a stupid stereotype no one even marginally intelligent should ever believe in? He didn't hide his anger and disappointment. His mom never even tried to defend her point – she just told him again and again how sorry she was. She cried. He cried. It would probably take a long time, but Blaine knew he'd forgive her eventually. After all, she was his mom and he loved her despite everything.

They talked long into the evening. He told her about his life during these two long years when she hadn't really wanted to know for fear of what she'd learn. He spoke about the Warblers, about the Jeremiah fiasco, the Rachel confusion. He spoke about Eric. She asked, so he told her everything in detail, finding solace in her arms once again. And then he spoke about Kurt. About their friendship and how Kurt had been there for him when he most needed a helping hand. About his amazing family. About love, the beginnings of their relationship, and how happy it made him. He told her he thought she'd like Kurt. She smiled.

When they finished talking, Blaine could barely speak with exhaustion.

That evening he didn't listen to Kurt's CD. He fell asleep with his mom sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his hand and singing lullabies he remembered from his childhood. And for once, he didn't dream of terrors. He slept peacefully, never waking up until his alarm in the morning, not even when his father came home and had a heated conversation with his wife downstairs.

* * *

><p>Carl Anderson was a strong, tough man. He was proud and stubborn. He knew what he wanted and despised those who didn't. He didn't care about silly, sentimental things like art, music, theatre – it was a waste of time. The world was hard, so a man had to be harder.<p>

Contrary to what his family might think, he wasn't a homophobe. He didn't really care if his son was gay – he just cared that he insisted on flaunting it. Image was everything, after all – people judged you by what they saw. What you did privately, in your own home, was your business. Why couldn't Blaine understand how much more he could achieve, how much farther get in his life if he just stayed silent about certain things, maybe pretend a little? He was no stranger to pretending, performing, what could it hurt?

The boy was still so young, he just didn't get it yet. One day he would thank his father for the tough love.

At least that's what he told himself late on those nights when sleep eluded him and doubts escaped the tightly guarded corner of his soul where they were locked most of the time. He didn't like to remember it in the morning, so he just made himself forget.

That Thursday night Carl Anderson was forcefully reminded of the fiercely protective, independent woman he fell in love with two decades ago. And since he knew very well that she always chose her battles, but when she decided to fight one, it was important and there was no stopping her, he listened. When she told him that their son's ordeal not only wasn't exaggerated, but they hadn't even known all the details, because they never asked him, at first he got furious at that sick bastard who did this, and then he cried like a baby. And when his tears were spent, he did something he almost never did: admitted that he was wrong. Not just about the recent incident, but about Blaine in general. And while he didn't really know any other way to raise a son, he promised his wife that he would do whatever he could to change. Yes, he would educate himself and work on his attitude. Yes, he would try to accept Blaine's choices and stop forcing his views upon him. Yes, he would stop being an asshole who chooses his image over his own child. Yes.

* * *

><p>Kurt got a standing ovation and their choreography for <em>Raise Your Glass<em> rocked, but they still lost to New Directions. And honestly, even as he saw disappointment in everyone's eyes, Blaine quietly admitted to himself that he was relieved. New York was so far out of his comfort zone right now, even thinking about going made him dizzy. Sure, Nationals would be awesome, but he had more important battles to fight. Next week he would be meeting his therapist for the first time.

When everyone was done congratulating each other and the audience had mostly left, Blaine saw something that made his heart lose a beat.

For the first time since he'd become a Warbler, his parents came to see him sing.

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter: Earthquake<strong>


	11. Earthquake

**A/N: **Please don't hate me, I promise I'm not just screwing with them for no reason.

Also, the chapter is a bit shorter than I thought it would be.

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 11<p>

Life sped up after Regionals. With therapy twice a week and plenty of mental exercises to do in between, with a mother who came home to eat dinner with him and spend time together almost every day, not to mention schoolwork to pick up, Blaine suddenly had very little time on his hands. For the next three weeks he hardly saw Kurt outside of school, managing only to meet twice for coffee and spend one afternoon in Lima, where everyone wanted to know how he was doing and showered him with affection. He missed them and was glad they all understood his lack of time and encouraged him to do whatever he needed to recover.

And he was already doing better. The therapy was a hard, painful work that brought him to tears more than once, but he put every effort in it – repeating the details of the attack to desensitize his mind to it, learning techniques to fight fear, stop panic and deactivate the triggers. In the beginning he actually got worse for a week and he still had a long way to go now, but lately he slept more and was able to better concentrate at school. The fact that he had much more support now helped as well. The Warblers kept taking care of him, Kurt was always just a phone call away, and now his own home was no longer hostile territory. His mom was determined to rebuild the relationship between them and even though she was a full-time businesswoman now, she did her best to be there for him as much as she could. She knew his story, every detail of it, and tried to help him with his exercises. They slowly developed new trust in each other and Blaine only now really let himself feel how much he'd missed his mother's love all this time. Even his father seemed to be trying to change. He apologized for not believing him, stopped throwing cold, cutting remarks regarding Blaine's life choices and future prospects and actually tried to be nice for a change, and even just this was a huge improvement in the quality of their family life.

Still, he missed Kurt badly. It was a constant ache in his chest, an emptiness that he couldn't fill with anything else. So in the third week he just asked his mother if she would mind his spending the weekend at Kurt's. After a quick phone call to Carole to check if it was okay with them, he got permission, and on Friday he went home with his boyfriend, with the blissful perspective of two full days and three nights together. He spent the whole drive talking with Kurt, unhurried for once, and staring at his lovely profile. He felt quiet contentment take over the usual chaos of his thoughts – he was going to a safe, friendly place, to spend time with the person he loved and the family that cared about him a lot. His life was slowly falling into place. It was good.

It all shattered as soon as they entered the house.

* * *

><p>Kurt barely closed the front door behind them when Puck flew out of the living room and almost slammed into him.<p>

"Kurt! Oh, hi Blaine, you're here too. Good, you'll both want to know."

"Know what?"

"Come on, sit down." Puck was already pushing Kurt impatiently into the living room, Blaine hovering uncertainly behind. The room was empty and they could hear dishes clattering in the kitchen. Carole was probably preparing dinner.

"So, what is this about? You look terrifyingly excited."

"I raced here right after the training, I even skipped the shower. I had to let you know before the girls learn about it and start to pressure you."

"Learn about what and pressure me to do what? Also, eww."

"To go back."

"Puck, have you been eating your grandma's special cupcakes again? What are you talking about?"

"Okay, get this. Karofsky transferred out. Nobody knows where. Rumor has it, his old man found him jerking off over – wait for it – gay porn. Apparently he admitted he played for the other team. Karofsky, can you believe it? And then he had a breakdown, screaming he can't come back to McKinley, that they will torture him to death there if they know, and he's not you and he can't stand it. I don't know how much truth there is in this shit, but the fact is, his father came to get all his things today and coach Beiste confirmed it. He's out."

Kurt fought to keep his face impassive. It wasn't easy. As much as he despised and feared Karofsky, he felt sorry for him now – this way of coming out must be every gay boy's worst nightmare. Still, he didn't entirely understand the urgency in Puck's voice.

"Okay, but so what?"

"Don't you get it? As soon as everyone knows, they will try to make you come back to McKinley. To Glee. Because we need you and you could go to Nationals with us. And you'd be safe now. I just thought that I'd give you heads up, so that you have time to think if you even want to come back before they force you into anything."

"Wow. Puck, I'm actually speechless. It's incredibly thoughtful of you."

"I have my moments. Okay, I'm gonna run. I'll come by tomorrow."

"Thanks."

His phone rang seconds later, before he even had time to process what he heard, and it was just as Puck said. For nearly an hour he talked with Rachel, Tina and Mercedes, telling them that _yes, he heard_ and _no, he didn't think about it yet_ and _yes, he did need to think, it isn't that _easy and _give me some time, girls_. But just as Puck predicted, they were determined and it took a lot of time and effort – and a solemn promise to call them as soon as he decides – to finally get them to hang up. All this time, engrossed in the chaos of the news and ecstatic girls, he didn't notice how pale Blaine got, how tight he clutched the handles of his overnight bag, his knuckles white. If he did, he would chuck the phone in a heartbeat and jump to reassure him that he's not going anywhere.

But it may have been a good thing he didn't. Because frankly, he wouldn't be able to say it with utter conviction.

Would he stay at Dalton, in this golden cage, now that he didn't have to anymore?

* * *

><p>Blaine felt his insides freeze when he listened to Puck. He understood the implications of Karofsky's transfer immediately, even if Kurt didn't get it at first. It meant only one obvious thing: Kurt would leave Dalton. And ultimately, Kurt would leave him, too. He knew it for sure.<p>

Kurt never really felt at home at Dalton, never fit in. He was a free spirit, his individuality too great to suppress. It wasn't easy for him to conform to the ridiculously strict private school rules. He would never be happy there, always forced to change, always with his wings bound. Besides, he had friends at McKinley, people he liked, loved even, and missed every day – Blaine could see it in his eyes whenever he talked about them. He had his old Glee club there, where he could perform what he wanted to, where he got to shine even if they never actually gave him a solo. And he had a chance to go to New York, to Nationals – and Blaine knew how big of a dream it was for him, how bitter the disappointment was when the Warblers lost at Regionals. If you added the simple financial argument to the mix, there really was no reason for Kurt to stay at Dalton even a day longer.

Or rather, there was one. Just one silly, weak, immaterial reason. Him. Which of course wouldn't mean much against everything else. There was no way Kurt would stay at school he didn't feel good at, rejecting the chance to reunite with his friends, to be free to express himself, see New York and ease it financially for his family, just so that he could stay with his boyfriend. Even if this boyfriend needed him like air right now.

Of course, he wouldn't make it harder for Kurt, pointing out his own needs. He would grin and bear it. He'd pretend to believe that it wouldn't change anything. He'd pretend not to be brokenhearted when Kurt has less and less time for him, busy with his separate life. He'd finally pretend to accept it when one day Kurt would say it doesn't make sense anymore, and then he'd go home and pretend to be okay.

He couldn't listen to Kurt's conversation with the Glee girls after a while, each word taunting him with false hope, so he stood up silently and left the room. He put his bag by the stairs, to pick it up later, and went to the kitchen where Carole was peeling potatoes for dinner and humming quietly. Without a word, he grabbed the second peeler from a drawer and moved to help. Her eyes brightened in a smile and she hugged him awkwardly, keeping her wet hands away.

"Hi sweetie. I'm so glad you came at last! Talk to me, I want to know _everything_! How's school? And your parents? How do you feel?"

"Good. It's all getting better. My grades are up, although not back to normal yet. Life at home is infinitely better and I can't thank you enough for this. My mom even wants to meet Kurt soon, you know? She's actually excited about it. I'm okay, I guess. It's still a battle, but at least now I'm being trained to fight."

"And yet something is wrong. You look… defeated. What happened?"

"It's nothing."

"Don't lie to me, young man. You wouldn't look like you were about to cry if it was nothing."

"Okay, so it's not nothing, but it's not anything I can help."

"Tell me."

"It's… about Kurt."

"Kurt? Did he do something?"

"No, no. It's just… Did you talk with Noah? Did he tell you why he was here?"

"Yes, he wanted to tell Kurt about that bully transferring out."

"Exactly."

"And?"

"And now Kurt's on the phone with half of his old Glee club convincing him to get back to McKinley as fast as he can. And I understand it, just… I'll miss him, you know? And I'm not sure long distance relationships ever work, especially in high school, and after such a short time, so…"

"And you're so certain he'll want to transfer back?"

"Of course he will."

"I don't know, I think he may still surprise you. But, of course, it's his decision to make. I'm just saying, don't lose sleep over it yet."

But Blaine just knew. He knew he didn't stand a chance and tried to prepare to take this blow. Still, it hurt too much to even think about it, so when Kurt touched the subject in the evening, he stopped him.

"Kurt, this is your decision. I just want you to know that whatever you decide, I'll understand and support you."

When they were entering the house earlier that afternoon, Blaine was planning the fastest route to the bedroom, to kiss his boyfriend silly after all this time. But now, he just wanted to cuddle. To get so close that he could feel Kurt under his skin, inhale him, remember his warmth and his touch forever.

* * *

><p>Puck came again on Saturday, as he promised, bringing Santana with him. Soon, he and Finn were in the middle of a <em>Halo 3<em> game and Kurt was distracting them, asking about the recent Glee news, no doubt impatient to just be back with them already. Blaine was sitting on the floor a little further away, watching them – okay, mostly _him _– discreetly. Or at least he thought he was discreet until Santana sat by him with a knowing smirk.

"So, you and Kurt then?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"To me? Always. But I heard from Finn, actually. So why are you moping?"

"I'm not."

"Oh believe me, you are. So much your aura turned all blue."

"What?"

"No, okay, I totally made it up. But seriously, what's wrong? You can tell Auntie Tanny."

"It's just that with Kurt moving back to McKinley…"

"Wait, what? _Is_ he transferring back? Did he tell you that?"

"Well, no. He's still thinking about it. But he will."

"You're so sure about that."

"I am. What would he stay at Dalton for when the only reason he'd transferred is gone?"

"Let me think. You, maybe?"

"Right. Like just a boyfriend is a good enough reason."

"Just a boyfriend might not be. A boyfriend he's totally in love with would stand a bigger chance. If the boyfriend actually _needed _him there, I'd say the chances would be pretty good."

Blaine startled. It sounded as if she knew something. "What are you…"

"Honey. I may not look like it, but I know things. I notice things. And let me tell you – I may not have always been a fan of Hummel here, but I know he has the biggest freaking heart in that whole school. He may not like to show it, but it's there. He can't help it. He cares. And the way he looks at you? He cares more than I've ever seen him care. I'd just trust him, if I were you. He won't hurt you."

"Thanks, Tanny."

But deep down, he knew he would end up hurt anyway.

* * *

><p>Kurt would love to say it was an easy decision, but it would be a lie. He weighted his options, put them on a mental scale: Dalton on one side, McKinley on the other. The school that he didn't fit in but where Blaine was vs. that with all his friends, his old Glee club, Nationals, the school he'd never really wanted to leave in the first place. It was pretty obvious what the scales would show, but still, his heart ached a little at that choice. He gave himself a deadline: he'd decide by Sunday evening. So he deliberated on it all weekend. It never really left his mind, this nagging thought: would it be the right thing to do? Blaine said he'd understand either way, but would he really? He didn't seem to know just how important it was for Kurt. Would he withdraw when he told him? Would he be able to accept it? Or would he freak out?<p>

Finally, the decision had to be made. So he made it.

It wouldn't be easy, but they would survive.

Now he just had to talk to his dad, make sure it was okay with him, before he told Blaine.

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter: Aftershocks<strong>


	12. Aftershocks

**A/N: **_My (limited) knowledge of psychology comes mostly from my interest in the field. I read a lot, but I am in no way a specialist. The concept that I used in this chapter – what Blaine's therapist suggests – is not anything I researched, just something that kept bugging me about their relationship. I have no idea if it's realistic, but I think it makes sense. If it doesn't, please forgive me._

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 12<p>

Kurt came back from the kitchen, where he was holed in with his father for a long while, and came up to the armchair where his boyfriend was sitting. The look on his face, determined, yet a little scared, made Blaine's anxiety shoot up in a heartbeat. Was it time…?

"Hey. We need to talk. About the transfer."

It was. He gathered all his strength and acting skills.

"Okay." It came out almost calm. Good.

"Can we go to my room?"

"Of course." _Wherever you want_.

Once upstairs, Kurt closed the door and led him to the bed. They sat cross-legged, facing each other, and Kurt took his hands. If he noticed how they shook, he didn't say anything.

"Blaine… please don't freak out over what I'm going to tell you." The grey-green eyes were more scared than determined now, so he squeezed Kurt's hands reassuringly, even though he felt like he was the one who would need reassurance in a minute.

"Okay."

"I love you." So, a bit of sweetness before the bitter, bitter pill. "I'm not going back to McKinley."

_Huh?_ He looked at Kurt, confused.

"I love you too much to leave you now, when you need me. I mean, we would still be together even if I transferred back, but with your therapy and both our Glee clubs, we would hardly have time to see each other. In other situation we could probably deal with it, but right now you don't need another source of stress and frustration. I told you I'd stand by you and I will. I can't promise you anything about next year, but that's not the issue now – for the rest of this school year, I'm staying at Dalton."

Blaine managed to find his voice by then.

"But why did you think it would freak me out?"

"Because… maybe it's too much? If you think about this – us – as a passing thing, a high school fling? Because I don't. Maybe I'm not planning our future already, but for me it's serious, a relationship that is worth fighting for. Part of me wants my friends, McKinley, Nationals, and I know they will give me hell when I tell them, but they will survive. And there was really no other option than my staying with you. It's a question of priorities. Because I know that you need this to feel safe and I want you safe and happy. I'm in it with all my heart and I feel desperately vulnerable right now, because if you don't feel the same way…"

Blaine didn't let him finish, shutting him up with a fierce kiss before he whispered against his lips,

"Of course I do."

* * *

><p>Barely five days had passed since his decision to stay at Dalton and already something was wrong. Kurt could feel it the minute he saw Blaine on Friday morning. There was something about him that just didn't seem right – a smile that looked a little bit forced or maybe the way he was glancing away from him, as if trying to hide his eyes.<p>

"Hi. Everything alright?"

Blaine hesitated. "Yes. No. I'm not sure."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not now. After classes, in your car."

Kurt had made it a habit to park in the most distant corner of the student parking lot. It was always deserted and partially hidden from view by an overgrown bush. And with Blaine's busy schedule, lately it was often the only place where they could sit for a little while and enjoy some privacy to talk about personal matters or steal a few kisses before going to their respective homes.

"Okay. Now you scared me."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to."

Kurt couldn't help but notice that Blaine didn't say there was no reason to be scared.

* * *

><p>Classes dragged more than ever and every time Kurt glanced at his watch, the hands had barely moved. He just wanted to know what was wrong and not to be left at the mercy of his own overactive imagination. The reality would probably be easier than most of his own ideas.<p>

Or maybe not.

Finally the last period ended and Kurt speeded towards his car. Blaine wasn't there yet, so he sat in the back and waited. It was easier to talk there, facing each other. After barely a minute the door opposite clicked and Blaine slipped in. He hugged Kurt immediately before pulling back and settling against the door, never letting go of his boyfriend's hand.

"How was your day?"

"Blaine, just tell me what's wrong, I'm worrying myself sick here."

"Okay. But first, I need you to know that I really, really love you." Kurt nodded, heart lodged somewhere in his throat preventing him from saying anything. Blaine took a deep breath. "We need to take a break for a while."

"_What_?" Okay, he'd _really_ hoped his imagination was wrong in this particular point. But Blaine said he loved him…

"Please, just let me explain. It's a part of my therapy."

"Breaking up with me is a part of your therapy?"

"I'm not breaking up with you. I'm just saying we need a break. There's a difference."

"Oh really? And what is it, pray tell? Because I don't see any."

"Hey, don't get angry. It's difficult for me too. And by taking a break I mean that I need a little distance from you for a while."

"That's exactly what people say when they want to break up."

"Kurt…"

"So, what? I shouldn't talk to you at all? Stay away?"

"Yes."

"But why? What do I have to do with your therapy?"

"I'll try to explain. I hope it will make sense. I talked about you with my therapist yesterday, about our relationship, how it started, how you help me and how happy you make me. And she said that she can see a potential problem for us in the future."

"What? How can she know…"

"Shh. Let me finish. The way she said it, you are too strongly associated with Eric in my mind – you were there for me from the beginning, you comforted me, listened to me ramble, know all the details. Our first confessions, even first kiss – it was all closely connected with the consequences of rape. She says that with time, as I will remember our beginnings, every time it will remind me of Eric and everything that happened, and it may… I don't know, undermine the foundations of our relationship?"

"Oh." Damn. Kurt had to admit it sounded reasonable. "But what can we do? We're doomed from the start if we look at it like this."

"She says I need to take some time away from you to work on it. To change the way I think about it, so that when I think of you, there isn't a shadow of _him_ there in the background. Like, when we started kissing, in a way I thought about it as a victory over him – kissing me is your thing now, not his. Does it make any sense?"

"I don't know, but I get it. And?"

"And if I looked at it like that, I'd be thinking about him every single time we make a step forward, get closer – it would be thinking of a victory, but still. And it would taint what we have, you know? I need to be able to separate it in my mind. What he did to me is one thing and I will probably remember it in various situations for a long time, but I have to be able to get closer to you one day when we're ready, without thinking about it as reclaiming his territory or something like that. Just… rethink it all, reorganize it in my mind."

"Okay. I understand. But why do you need distance to do it? Can't we just keep being together?"

"No, because I'd get distracted. I kind of lose my mind a little around you. And there would constantly be new thoughts, feelings and memories to sort through, it would be too confusing. And…"

"And?"

"No, never mind."

"Tell me."

"It's just something my therapist warned me about. But she was wrong."

"Blaine. I want to know if I should be warned about something."

"But it's stupid, it won't happen. Oh, okay. She just said that when I sort through those thoughts and feelings, I might find out that after taking the rape out of the equation, there's nothing left. That our relationship was built solely on support and comfort and gratitude, and not on actual love. But I'm telling you, it won't happen. I know what I feel."

Kurt paled. He never talked about it, but it was something he'd feared all this time, whenever he let his thoughts wander that way.

"Or so you think."

"Kurt, I…"

"I love you. And I'll be right there, waiting for you to come to me. But I want you to promise me one thing: if you discover you don't really love me, that you just thought you did, tell me immediately, okay?"

"I promise. But it won't…"

"Shh. Can I kiss you one more time before we take the break?"

* * *

><p>Why did it feel like a goodbye kiss? Why did his heart ache so much? Why did his mind tell him insistently that it was the end, there would be no more <em>them<em> when they spoke again?

They agreed on not communicating at all until Blaine was done with his therapeutic mind magic. Of course, they wouldn't avoid contact at all cost or refuse to talk in social situations, but they would try not to make it more difficult for either of them by seeking each other's company. But as Kurt was driving home after their goodbye, he couldn't help thinking that maybe it would have been better to just stay together, be happy, drunk on each other as long as they could and take the end with dignity and beautiful memories if it came one day, instead of risking it to end now, before they even had time to enjoy it fully.

At dinner everyone noticed his morose mood, so he told them about the conversation with Blaine. His dad wasn't concerned.

"Well, I don't get most of this psychological mumbo-jumbo, but I'm sure it will be alright. Just give it time."

Carole at least seemed to understand his worries and squeezed his hand compassionately.

"You know he loves you."

He could only nod, swallowing tears that stubbornly tried to flow for no reason. Because he _had_ no reason. Not yet.

The weekend was awful, Blaine's absence attacking him from everywhere he looked. His phone was silent, Skype turned off, there was a distinctly boy-shaped hole in his room. He didn't know what to do with himself. His girls were still mad at him, so he couldn't even distract himself with a shopping spree or a sleepover. He tried hanging out with Finn and Puck downstairs, but gave up when they started talking about boobs, and not in terms of determining the correct bra size. Finally, he settled on doing his homework for the whole week, reorganizing his closet yet again and pressing everything that looked even marginally creased. It still left him with too much time on his hands, so he baked three batches of cookies and was halfway through packing some into a container to take to school for Blaine when he remembered he couldn't. Because _they were on a break_.

It sucked. He gave up and went to bed, only to toss and turn for hours, remembering those nights when Blaine's warm body was in that same bed, beside him.

It was no better at school all week. Soon he was tired of saying that yes, everything was fine, thank you, Blaine just needed some time to focus on getting his grades back up, so they were taking a break – it was the explanation they'd agreed on. Pity he saw in more than one pair of eyes told him it wasn't entirely convincing. Trying not to look at Blaine, not to come up and talk to him was even harder, because it was instinct, a long established behavior from way before they were even boyfriends. Countless times he turned to comment on something or share a knowing look, only to remember that they weren't talking. It was like that short time after their fight over Blaine's sexual confusion, only now it was worse, because at least then they knew they would get over it soon enough. Now, it could last a lot longer.

They hadn't agreed on any set period of their break – it would take as much time as Blaine needed – and as Kurt was lying on his bed the next Sunday afternoon, miserably contemplating a mysterious dark spot on the ceiling, he wondered how many more weeks like this one he'd have to endure and what the outcome would be. It's not that he regretted staying at Dalton, it just felt so much more lonely without Blaine's presence by his side. And he knew nothing at this point, had no hints as to how the other boy was doing, what he was thinking. Yes, he was probably thinking of _him_ a lot, but was this good? Or was he even now coming to a conclusion that it was all a mistake, that he took gratitude for love? Kurt wasn't sure how he could endure it if they were to go back to just being friends, now that he knew the sweetness of requited love, of kisses and touches and embraces.

He heard quick footsteps on the stairs and suddenly the door to his room was flung open and then shut, and he was just about to say something scathing about that fairly modern concept called knocking when his bed dipped under additional weight and then he was drowning in the amber eyes he couldn't get out of his mind all week.

"I love you."

There was absolute certainty in Blaine's voice, a finality of something determined without a slightest doubt, and it was all Kurt needed to know. He pulled his boyfriend down to him until their lips crashed together with desperation born from longing and uncertainty. It was all passion, all tongues and heat and bodies pressing together like they never had before. Then Blaine moved his lips and – whoa, holy Prada…

Kurt was quickly losing all coherence, because those lips were doing something amazing to his neck and a tongue started tracing circles in the soft hollow under his ear. Blaine's hand, smoothing its way down his side, wasn't helping either. And then Kurt stopped thinking entirely and just _felt_. His own arms sneaked up of their own accord, tracing the uncharted territory of the other boy's body over the soft cotton of his black henley, pulling him even closer. Too absorbed in sensations to be self-conscious, he let out soft little moans and mewls as Blaine sucked on his neck gently enough not to bruise and kissed his way down his throat. Pleasure and want, it was all that counted, all that pulsed in his mind. So _that _was what sex was all about! For the first time, Kurt understood the appeal. And oh, what an appeal it was…

Then Blaine's fingers brushed over a strip of naked skin of his abdomen where his shirt had ridden up and a hot jolt of pleasure shot through his belly. The high keening sound that escaped him seemed to sober both of them up, reminding them of the reality of Kurt's family downstairs and certain talks they needed to finish. Blaine's lips returned to his, his hand laid gently on Kurt's cheek, and they kissed softly, sweetly for a while longer before they parted, both breathless and flushed, grinning madly, their lips raw and their eyes sparkling.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"So are we done with the break?"

"Yes. No more breaks, ever."

"Thank god."

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter: Surprises<strong>


	13. Surprises

**A/N: **_This is the final chapter. Thank you all for reading and reviewing – I loved sharing this story with you and reading your responses. I hope you had a good time and come back to read my other stories one day :)_

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><p>CHAPTER 13<p>

Kurt felt like they were in a honeymoon phase now. Everything was Klaine – as Finn quickly christened them – and nothing hurt. They'd had their share of anxiety with the possibility of his transfer and then the break, but they got something good out of these experiences: absolute certainty that they were equally important for each other and both treated their love as more than a fleeting romance. They had no reason to doubt either themselves or each other after that, which cut the potential drama factor in their relationship considerably. There was enough drama waiting for them in the outside world. But for now, life seemed to give them a break at last.

The calm was disturbed only once.

It was a sunny Saturday in early May and Blaine was spending the weekend at the Hummel-Hudson house, as he did roughly every other week now. Puck and Santana were there again, even though Finn had gone out with Quinn. Nobody seemed to know when or why, but somewhere down the road it became a habit for those two to hang out with Kurt and Blaine. Kurt would have never believed it last year, but he actually started to think about them as friends.

He was just jamming with Puck now in the back garden and Blaine was sitting on the ground with Santana leaning against him, showing him pictures of the recent madness in the Glee practice on her digital camera, when there was a sharp gasp and a quiet _Fuck_. When Kurt turned, he saw Blaine white as a sheet, staring at Santana with wide, scared eyes.

"What happened? Blaine, talk to me. Blaine?" Unable to get any reaction, Kurt turned to the girl. "Santana?"

She just handed him the camera, her eyes never leaving Blaine, filled with unusual amount of concern. Puck was there now, looking over Kurt's shoulder.

"Shit! San, I told you to erase those pictures!"

From the screen at the back of the camera, Eric was glaring at them coldly.

* * *

><p>After a while, Blaine's breathing came back to normal and he was able to speak again. He was sitting with his back against Kurt's chest, facing the other two.<p>

"Okay. Please, explain to me why do you have a picture of this guy in your camera. And not just any picture, but the picture that was on flyers advertising him as a rapist. And while you're at it, you can tell me why neither of you seems to be surprised with my reaction to it." He glanced accusingly at Kurt, who shook his head.

Puck started, "Dude, I'm sorry, we just…"

But Santana cut in.

"No, let me. I want to tell them, from the beginning."

"You sure?" She just nodded once before speaking, her face taking on a distant expression.

"Almost a year ago, in July, I was assaulted." Twin gasps sounded in the warm air. Puck extended his hand to the girl, who took it quickly. "I was at a club. A guy was hitting on me – he was hot, a businessman from out of town, in his thirties. He bought me drinks, we danced, we made out a little, it was cool. Then he wanted to go outside, to get some air, he said. I was a bit drunk, I thought he just wanted to make out some more. I thought I had it under control. He pulled me into an alley, told me to blow him. When I said no, he hit me. Then pinned me to the wall, tore off my underwear." Santana's voice was shaking, she made a pause to catch a breath. Kurt was biting his lip. Blaine's eyes were wet. He took her other hand without a word. "He didn't… I… Someone came, to take a leak I think. I managed to run. But it was so fucking close, his pants were already down, that's why he didn't catch me."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry…" Kurt didn't know what to say. He'd never think that Santana, the queen bitch, the man eater, Satan herself, would hide such a secret under her spiky exterior.

"Yeah. Anyway, I knew I couldn't tell anyone – I mean, who would believe me? In a leather mini, drunk, in a club with a fake I.D. and with my reputation? And nothing really happened, after all. So I tried to just forget it. But it wasn't that easy." Blaine nodded with understanding. "Then one day I was at Puckermann's. We had a few drinks and it sort of… came out. He helped me deal with it, I guess. He was the only one I told about it, and now you two. I don't want anyone else to know."

They nodded solemnly, a promise without words.

Puck took over. "And then Finn told me what happened to you, man – don't be mad, he just didn't know how to deal with it and I'm his best friend, you know? And I didn't tell anyone but San. She could never have her revenge on that bastard who attacked her, but I thought that maybe we could both screw it for some other fucking rapist. And we did, we roughed him up a bit, took some photos and made the flyers. Plastered it all over the campus and in town. We just wanted to make his life hell."

"And in the process you managed to help the police put him in prison for 20 years."

"Yeah, we heard from Finn. So it wasn't entirely wrong, was it?" Santana looked at Blaine apologetically.

"No, Tanny. It was brilliant. Thank you." He hugged her warmly, then shook Puck's hand. "Both of you."

* * *

><p>The rest of the school year went by peacefully and Blaine was reveling in the calm. His therapy was slowly coming to an end, his grades were back to excellent and his family house stopped being a place of silence and cold and became a home again, where people talked about what mattered, ate together at least several evenings a week and smiled. His mother seemed happier than she had been in years; his father was still mostly distant, but then he'd always been that way.<p>

His relationship with Kurt blossomed, solid and safe, making him look forward to every new day. He felt like he was falling in love again every single time they met and hoped that he'd always feel this little flutter in his chest the moment his eyes laid on the familiar lithe form appearing even after the shortest absence. He was drunk on love and enjoyed every minute they got to spend together, whether they were cuddling in Kurt's bed, doing homework side by side or washing his car on a lazy Saturday morning. They haven't moved any further physically, but it didn't matter – they took their time discovering all the little nuances of making out, all the tiniest places that made each of them shiver and moan when kissed, licked, touched, sucked… It was so new to both of them, such an amazing discovery, that they didn't want to lose anything racing on. And Blaine was sure now that when they went further one day, it would be because they wanted it with each other and not for any other reasons, including fighting demons of the past. Eric was a closed chapter, a scar that was still fresh and sore, but didn't open to ooze and pester anymore. He was moving forward.

The circle of his friends expanded as he grew even closer with the unlikely duo of Tanny and Noah, and then got accepted with open arms into the rest of New Directions crazy mix at a party he helped them throw to celebrate Brittany's birthday. After singing with them half the evening, he was even called a honorary member of their Glee club, though Rachel made him swear not to use it against them in a competition next year. He didn't admit he was considering not competing against them at all.

He'd had a rough time these last months but now finally Blaine could feel he was getting where he wanted to be.

* * *

><p>Lilian Anderson was enchanted. There was simply no other word for it. She was looking at the boy on the other side of their dinner table and couldn't help the thought that she would have nothing against him becoming her son-in-law one day. She chided herself quickly – they were way too young for her to think about things like that already, but the fact was, Kurt Hummel appeared to be a perfect boyfriend for her son. He was witty and charming, well-mannered and polite, a little flamboyant, yes, but it suited him. He was easy to talk to, chatting with her about fashion and music, complimenting her on her cooking and interior design taste and at the same time winning Carl over, talking about cars and managing a small family company with his dad, and showing he knew exactly what he wanted, excitedly mentioning New York. It was impressive. But what most warmed her heart to the boy was the way he looked at Blaine. In his eyes and the soft smile there was care and tenderness, admiration and undeniable love. And Blaine responded with identical love-struck look. She had no doubt that her son's heart was safe in Kurt's hands.<p>

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><p>The last Warblers' meeting of the year wasn't really a practice. The old council was reporting and stepping down to be replaced by three new faces chosen at the first meeting next year. Stories were exchanged, memories recalled. A few favorites of the year were sung, <em>Teenage Dream <em>among them, which made both Kurt and Blaine grin and blush. The seniors said their goodbyes, hugged and patted on their backs by everyone, more than one pair of eyes tearful. Then Wes stood up, council member 'till the end.

"We have one more sad duty here. As we learned last week, Warbler Kurt won't be returning to Dalton next year. Kurt, thank you for everything you taught us and all the time we spent together. It was a real pleasure having you among us. We hope you'll be happy and safe back at McKinley, and that you'll remember us fondly. If you face the Warblers next year as a member of New Directions, don't you dare sing even a notch below your best. We'll want to win fair and square."

There was a storm of cheering and applause, and a moment of general chaos as everyone was coming up to say something or hug him. Kurt was deeply moved. He may not really fit in at Dalton, but he felt close to this tight-knitted group who took him in, accepted him and gave him his first competition solo, and he knew he would miss them almost as much as he would miss Blaine when he went back to his old school next year.

There was a banging of the gavel and Wes spoke once more, Blaine by his side.

"Warbler Blaine asked for permission to speak. Or sing, perhaps?"

Kurt smiled. Everyone seemed to wait for Blaine to serenade him as a goodbye gesture. He was curious himself. It would be… very Blaine, after all. But no, his boyfriend just shook his head and waited for silence before he spoke.

"Thank you. No, I will not sing this time. I have an announcement to make."

Kurt's heart beat faster. An announcement? What has this crazy man planned this time? Remembering the GAP Attack, he quietly prayed to whatever random deity it wasn't a spectacle for him. He stood a bit straighter as Blaine continued.

"I wanted to thank you all for the continued support you gave me these last months. It really meant a lot and you have helped me tremendously in many difficult moments. I will be forever grateful for that. Which is why I'm even sadder to say that I'm leaving these walls as well." A murmur ran through the room, incredulous voices asking, whispering, commenting. Blaine raised his hand and they went quiet immediately. "Most of you know that I came here because I was bullied – hard – in my old school. I came bruised, scared and shy. You made me confident. You gave me back my voice. You helped me discover a leader in myself and made me feel safe again. Dalton was a place where I healed and grew. It was a place that made me stronger."

He looked right at Kurt now.

"And then I met Kurt and he stirred something in me. He made me braver. He showed me the real meaning of courage. And in these last months he and his family helped me to become stronger than ever and whole again. Now, I want more. The world is not like Dalton. For people like us, like me and Kurt, it's not a safe place. And I need to learn to face the world. I'm going back to public school for my senior year. I hope that I'll make it to the Glee club there and that next year I will meet you during a competition or another performance. I hope we'll keep in touch wherever we are. Thank you for your friendship, your trust in me and all the time we sang together."

Kurt was so stunned he barely blinked. He'd known nothing about Blaine's plans. One question fluttered in his chest, yet he was afraid to ask it. But it flew from the crowd of boys saying goodbye to their leader.

"Where are you transferring?"

Blaine smiled brightly.

"McKinley High."

* * *

><p>Blaine was sitting on the vast veranda of his home, feeling absolutely surreal. He was openly holding hands with his smiling boyfriend while said boyfriend's parents were chatting and laughing with his own over coffee and cookies just a few feet away. They had all just spent a lovely afternoon barbecuing. If was his mom's idea, "an opportunity to finally meet properly, since you boys are dating", as she said. It felt like a dream. It was better than a dream, because it was real.<p>

He heard Kurt's dad now.

"Do you have any family plans for the second week of July? We are going for a hiking trip for ten days and we were hoping to invite Blaine along – if he wanted to, of course." Burt looked at him and Blaine grinned, surprised.

"I'd love to!"

Lilian looked at her husband, who said, "I have nothing against it, if it's not a trouble to you. We will have quite a busy time at the company all July, so I'm sure Blaine would be happier with you all than home alone."

"It's no trouble at all, the more the merrier on such trips. And I'm sure it will curb Kurt's whining considerably." Burt winked at his son, who tried to look indignant, but then snorted with delighted laughter and hugged Blaine briefly.

"It's gonna be amazing."

Blaine knew it would. Ten long days with Kurt and his family, hiking, sleeping in tents, long evenings by a campfire, talking and singing... He couldn't think of a better prospect.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something too." His father sounded awkward, and that didn't happen often. Blaine looked at him, curiosity peaked.

"In two weeks we're organizing a conference. It will be a big event, so we have a plane chartered to take the Ohio participants there and a whole hotel booked for this. And since there are a few free seats and rooms left, I thought the boys might like the opportunity to spend a week in New York. Kurt said he thinks of studying there and with the senior year so close it may be a chance to look at colleges as well. What do you think?" Carl looked between them and the Hummels, a hint of a smile in the corners of his lips.

Kurt eyes were wide, his mouth open. He looked so adorably stunned, Blaine had to laugh. But the truth was, he was shocked too. His parents had never taken him along at any of their company trips, even when he knew they could have. And now they wanted to take _both_ of them. He couldn't have asked for better proof of acceptance. He shot up and closed the space between them, hugging first his dad, then his mom, who looked surprised too, as if she didn't know of this plan before.

"Oh my god, dad, it's awesome! It would be great! Thank you!" He looked at Burt and Carole then, ready to beg if necessary. "You will let Kurt go, won't you?"

Burt laughed. "Yes, we will. If you're sure it won't be a problem. And if he wants to, of course."

"If I want to? Of _course_ I want to! It's a dream come true! Oh wow, thank you! All of you! I can't believe it, we're going to New York…" Kurt's voice was high and breathless with excitement and he was bouncing on the spot, unable to stand still.

Blaine looked around with sparkling eyes, his heart brimming with happiness. It was going to be a beautiful summer. Two amazing trips and long, lazy days with Kurt and their friends in between.

Life was good.

THE END

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><p><strong>This is it. Sunshine and daisies and fluffy fluff. I'd really love to read your thoughts on this chapter and the whole story. So review, pretty please :)<strong>

**I have one more story in this 'verse almost complete in my head, but it's smutty smut and I haven't ventured into this territory yet, so we'll see. Maybe one day…**

**Thank you again for reading and reviewing!**


	14. Threequel announcement

There were many, many story alerts for this fic, so I'm putting this here to let everyone know that there's a **threequel** now – _Leave Me Breathless_. Check in my profile!

Here's a little teaser :)

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><p><strong>1. NEW YORK? NEW YORK!<strong>

"Son, come in for a moment."

Blaine froze by the door to his father's office. Usually being summoned there meant trouble. It was Carl Anderson's throne room, from which he ruled, commanded and punished. But with the recent changes in his parents' attitude, and especially since the barbecue with the Hummels a week ago, Blaine had learned that there was in fact more than one facet to his father's personality. So he felt more curious than reluctant now, as he entered the sparsely decorated room.

"Sit. I want to talk to you about New York."

"Okay. What about New York?" Blaine smiled as he settled into a leather chair in front of the huge mahogany desk. The trip would start in six days and he could barely contain his excitement. A week in New York with Kurt. It was going to be _amazing_!

"We had some last minute participants sign up for the conference. Which means…"

Blaine's face crumpled.

"We're not going, are we?" He knew it had been too good to be true. How silly of him to hope and plan.

His father frowned.

"What are you talking about? Of course you are going. I promised you this trip and I'm not one to go back on a promise, am I? Actually, I turned down several people to save you those last two places." Blaine sighed with relief. "No, it just means that we'll have to place you two in one room and I want to know if it's a good idea. It's a double, of course, but still. Maybe we should give the room to Kurt and have you sleep in ours? It would require some adjustments in accommodation plans, but it's doable."

Blaine shook his head, not comprehending.

"Why? I mean, why would it be a _bad_ idea?"

He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen his father _flustered_ before.

"Well, you know, you two are… together, right?"

"Yes?"

"And I guess… it can't be so different from what I recall of being in love as a teenager. Which includes… um… hormones and such…"

Blaine blushed to the tips of his ears, which for him, unlike Kurt, was a feat. Was his father really trying to talk to him about _sex_? A week ago, he would have said, with utter conviction, that such a thing would never, _ever_ happen.

"So… You're asking if you can trust us to be alone together in a hotel room?"

"Something like that, I guess. I mean, you're young, you um… like each other, and having a chance to spend so much time alone, to sleep in the same room… I just… don't want you to make haste decisions based on circumstances alone. You've been through a lot recently and I don't want you to get worse or something." Mr. Anderson shook his head and reached for a bottle of cognac that he kept on a side table. "Oh god, this is awkward."

Blaine chuckled softly. It was good to know he was not the only one feeling uncomfortable here.

"Dad. You have nothing to worry about. We sleep together all the time when I'm at Kurt's."

"What?"

Okay, so it may only have sounded like a good argument in his head, judging by his dad's shocked expression.

"No, I mean, not like _that_! We just… share the bed? Okay, that doesn't sound good either."

"And Kurt's parents are _fine_ with this?"

_Uh-oh_. Blaine knew that if he didn't fix this fast, he may never get to stay over at Kurt's again.

"Okay, it's like this. That first week after… after the rape Kurt slept close to me, because it was the only way I could sleep through the night. He sang to me and helped me when I had nightmares. Then, when I went there for a weekend, we were already together. So Mr. Hummel sat us down and gave us a talk. He said that he trusted us to be good for each other and respect our boundaries and not hurry anywhere. And that's just how we've been. I can't believe I'm telling this to _you_, but okay, if it convinces you not to worry… Just… _neither_ of us is anywhere near ready for anything much and I don't think this is going to change anytime soon. So…"

His father drank the cognac in one go.

"Okay, I really don't want to know the details of my son's sex life, thank you. I think Burt already told you more or less what I meant. So if you're sure you'll be alright with one room, it's fine by me. Just one more thing. I have to ask you two to be discreet about your relationship when you're around the hotel or conference center."

Blaine tried to hide the hurt in his eyes even as he said "Okay."

"Now, Blaine, don't give me that look. I'd tell you the same if you were there with a girlfriend. It's our work environment, these people know us professionally and I'd rather not give them reasons to pay much attention to you and gossip. I prefer our private and professional lives to stay separate."

"Oh. Okay, I get it."

"Good. Now, go. I have to finish with the budget."

"Thanks, Dad."

Blaine felt dazed as he went back to his room. Did he really just have _a sex talk_ with his father?

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><p><strong>Continued in <strong>_**Leave Me Breathless**_**.**

**The first chapter is up, look in my profile!**


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